


Beyond this place of wrath and tears

by 6romide



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Accidental Voyeurism, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Azkaban, Coercion, Extremely Dubious Consent, Good Weasleys, Implied/Referenced Torture, Innocent Harry Potter, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Locked in Prison, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Control, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Murder of a Minor Character, Power Imbalance, Voldemort is winning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:15:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29551974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6romide/pseuds/6romide
Summary: The Dark Lord is nearing victory and what remains of the Order is languishing in Azkaban. On the cusp of another escape attempt, Harry Potter- Dumbledore’s best kept secret- is delivered to the prison, setting the Order’s plans into motion. But the warden, none other than Severus Snape, has plans of his own for young Potter--and is determined to break the boy from the inside out.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 22
Kudos: 82





	1. The Warden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fell down a Snarry rabbit hole: Mousewrites, Chickenpets, and danpuff --you made my week as I binged your works. Truly amazing writers. Also, if you're not reading Pacify, are you even a SS/HP shipper?
> 
> Also, here's another shameless "Severus as prison guard" story. I think I have a problem.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Up! Up! _Hurry_!" Molly Weasley-dressed in the plain linen robes given to all prisoners of Azkaban-began to rouse her children and the others in their wing as loud as she dared, hissing through the bars, her hair wild.

She kept looking up at the magical sign that appeared in each of their cells, bright red numbers that illuminated a countdown. She must have missed the initial warning sound, but Molly had developed a sixth sense in Azkaban and caught the sign before it was too late.

_20…19…18…17…_

Arthur was already awake beside his wife, getting shakily to his feet and making his way over to stand at the ready by the door of his cell. He stuck his hands out so that magical cuffs materialized tightly around his wrists. His face was drawn and though he felt he had to be strong for his family, he worried that his will had long since left him.

_16…15…14…13…_

Ron Weasley, face smudged with dirt-as they were only allowed to wash twice a week-rolled over in his cell adjacent to his mother's. He blinked stupidly into the early morning light of Azkaban, wondering what in Merlin's name was happening. They were allowed to lie in on the weekend, a small reprieve from the daily torture that was life in Azkaban. He shot a worried glance at his mother and then down the rest of the wing, often referred to as the Order's Wing.

_12…11…10…9…8…_

It wasn't supposed to be like this, Ron thought, as George, Bill, Charlie, Ginny, and Hermione all shuffled to their feet as well. Further down the row, Sirius, Remus, and Neville were exchanging concerned glances. They could sense it as well as he could, that chill that ran down the spine…

_7…6…5…4…_

The last time they had been pulled away from their scheduled activities, it was to stand at attention as Neville Longbottom had been manhandled onto the island by a triumphant Bellatrix Lestrange. Neville had been leading the resistance against the Dark Lord, fighting alongside the centaurs before they captured him, setting the Forbidden Forest on fire. Seeing him arrive on their prison island had seemed like the last nail on the coffin for many of the Light. Now though, Neville was no stronger than the rest of them. He ate his gruel and dressed in rags and slept on the cement floor of his cell.

Ron searched for Hermione's eyes and tried to give her a reassuring smile, but all he managed to do was grimace. The question was clear in her gaze. _Who had they captured now? Was it Minerva McGonagall? Dumbledore? Who?_

_3…2…1…_

Hermione shut her eyes tightly as a tremendously loud beep resounded against the prison walls.

"Alright, alright!" Crabbe and Goyle Sr. sauntered into view at the far end of the corridor, reaching Remus' cell first. "Get up and form a line. No funny business! That's it, get in line. We've got a special guest for you all, just wait!"

Each prisoner was released from their cell, pulled through the bars by one who bore the Dark Mark. Arthur was last, standing right behind his wife, breathing slowly.

"That's it, single file. Nice and easy!" Goyle sneered. "We've got more than just you lot to round up, so get _moving_." He pointed his wand at Ginny and she screamed, the stinging hex making a bright red mark against her thigh. Molly flushed and bit her tongue, drawing blood. Still, they moved, following Crabbe up the corridor and towards the only place large enough for a prison-wide audience: the Hall.

Goyle took up the rear, swinging his wand around like a whip, grinning maliciously from ear to ear. At the first intersection, they ran into another line of prisoners led by MacNair, some of which were old classmates Ron recognized, others complete strangers. Another stream from the opposite end of the prison was headed by Rosier, all blank faced and broken. It was clear that the Order's Wing was a crown jewel of sorts in the Dark Lord's collection, and indeed, apart from the torture and interrogation, they were afforded more liberties than most prisoners, such as being able to communicate with each other while in separate cells, rather than being in magical isolation. It showed on their faces and in their clothes. Their faces were cleaner, but dirty. Their clothes were rags, but washed.

Ron hid his face, unable to stand the jealousy and hatred—as if any of them _asked_ for this. As if any of the Order wanted the special attention from _him_.

_The warden._

They shuffled into the Hall, grimy bodies pressed up against each other, wrists cuffed. They were forced to kneel on the ground, palms touching the floor, feet tucked underneath them. For the elders, this was particularly difficult, but no one was spared. The Death Eaters stood at attention in front of the doorways, wands at the ready, exchanging excited looks.

Twice, Ron caught the words, _It's him._

Then the air seemed to chill ten degrees below freezing. The trauma stored in his body recalled the physical sensations, the way his nerves _burned_ away like a wick, _eaten_. The ripple went through the room and Ron couldn't stare at the floor hard enough. _Don't look him in the eye._

Everyone's heads were bowed, their necks pressing impossibly lower down, as if trying to not be noticed. The swish of the man's robes, the silent fall of his step, the way the magic wrapped around him like a cloak…

The warden stepped further into the room, looking disdainfully down his hooked nose at the prisoners on either side of the room. There was an aisle in the middle up which he walked towards a grand fireplace that was roaring with a cold, green flame.

The fire roared with life with bright blue flames, and Lucius Malfoy stepped out in extravagant royal blue robes as befit the Minster of Magic. His eyes shone with arrogance as he surveyed the sorry vista before him.

Behind the minster came another figure, red-haired, skinny. Molly gasped as she took in the sight of her own son standing beside that _vermin_. Arthur looked away first, ashamed, but Molly was unable to turn away, drinking in the sight of a healthy Percy Weasley-haughty. Ron clenched his fists in anger, pressing them into the floor.

" _Severus,_ what a tight ship you run," Lucius said, curling his lip. "Most impressive." His gaze lingered on the group of Weasleys, easily identifiable by their blazing red hair and freckles. He turned sharply to his assistant. "Do you see now, Percy, the fate you have escaped by making the correct decision?"

Percy nodded vigorously, avoiding the eyes of his mother especially. "It couldn't be any clearer, Minister."

Lucius gave Severus a cruel smile as if they were sharing an inside joke. They likely were, not that Ron would be privy to it.

"Where was he?" Severus asked, his voice again affecting the prisoners much to Lucius' amusement. Even Sirius, who had tried to punch the warden on that first day, shivered and bent forward even more, _hiding_.

"In a cave, off the coast of France," Lucius murmured. " _Hiding_ behind the skirts of Minerva McGonagall before we killed her. He didn't even have a _wand_."

Severus' dark eyes flickered to the fire. "And where, may I ask, is the infamous undesirable now?"

Ron and Hermione's eyes met quickly before looking back down, both revealing their confusion. As far as they knew, there were no more undesirables. Neville had been the very last, hauled to his knees barely six months ago. He had been defiant at first, filled with rage as his once most hated professor threw him into his cell.

Lucius turned slightly and raised a delicate eyebrow at his assistant. Percy flushed and drew himself up taller. "He's being brought by Pettigrew…Should be here any moment," Percy said, eyeing the flames nervously. It was standard practice to make sure the prisoners were dressed in the proper robes and searched before being brought here. The one time someone managed to sneak a knife into the prison, they had been dead within the hour. Then again, Pettigrew was taking an awfully long time.

Just before Percy began to sweat for real, the flames flashed blue again and out tumbled Peter Pettigrew, holding tightly onto a lithe young man around Ron's age that he had never seen before. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius and Remus' jaws drop, and he snapped his attention back to the front. Who was this man?

Peter threw the boy away from him like he'd been burned, before bowing low to Lucius and Severus in turn. His high pitched, squeaky voice was loud in the silence.

"I present to you, H-Harry Potter, Undesirable Number One." Peter spared one frightened glance at the prisoner before leaping back through the floo, leaving the man standing alone, hands bound.

The young man, Harry, looked up then, surveying the room carefully through brilliant emerald eyes. He had a face carved of stone, a strength about him that was belied by the delicacy of his features. When Ron gazed upon the stranger, he thought he saw a leader.

Lucius smirked, circling the prisoner haughtily. "The last Potter," Lucius smirked. "The very last hope of the Light locked in Azkaban, Albus Dumbledore's secret weapon. Are you satisfied, Severus? I did say to our Lord that I would capture him before the year was up." Lucius gripped the boy's jaw tightly, inspecting his face as if examining a fine antique. The boy let him, green eyes tracking the movement carefully. "The boy didn't even put up a fight. I could have sent _Draco_."

Severus studied the young man before him intently. The boy met his gaze head on and Ron could feel is own limbs shake with fear. No one met the warden's eyes. No one.

"I would advise caution, Lucius," Severus began silkily. "The Dark Lord claims that he is dangerous, a wizard trained by the great Albus Dumbledore. You of all people should know that appearances can be deceiving."

"Dangerous?" Lucius repeated with a huff. "A mere precaution."

But Severus was not so ignorant. Ron could sense the energy in the air, the rattle of his cuffs against the floor, the torch lights _bending_. It was clear that Severus could feel it too as his wand slipped into his hand.

Lucius had just turned slightly towards the boy again when the magic _snapped_. The boy was holding a wand, stolen off of Pettigrew with some sleight-of-hand, from his smock and flicked it high in the air. At once, everyone's cuffs began to fade into nothingness. Ron looked down at his own bare wrists and instinctually grabbed Hermione beside him. What had just happened? His mind blanked. Were they free? Was this part of Dumbledore's plan? He took two steps forward, not even sure where to go…

It was pandemonium for several seconds. The guards began shooting stunners in all directions. MacNair was screaming for everyone to get back to their spots, while Rosier was valiantly trying to block the prisoners from climbing the walls to the merest of windows at the top, large enough for a rat to crawl through. It was as if everyone forgot that magic sealed them inside, that even if they managed to escape the room, there was still an ocean of violent waves to greet them. Ron soon realized this and stopped in his tracks.

"There's no way out," Hermione whispered against him. Her eyes fell on the scene in the front of the room, of Severus and Potter and Percy at a standoff, none of them moving. "I wonder why he did it..."

"There will be order!" Lucius growled ineffectually, snatching Pettigrew's wand from the boy. If the Dark Lord learned of his horrendously executed prisoner delivery, he would have Lucius' head.

Still, the boy didn't move, not towards the floo or towards any of the prisoners. He made no move to attack-simply watched. Severus likewise was still. Their eyes met, _clashed_. Severus tilted his head to the side slightly and then raised his wand to his own throat.

"Everyone _DOWN_ ," Severus demanded, his voice amplified so that it seemed to come from within everyone's skulls. Molly clutched her head against the pain as so many others did. "I am asking only _once_."

The noise cut off abruptly.

It was eerie, the way he was able to control them, like he had a leash tied to each one of them and all he had to do was _pull_.

The boy was learning how the prison worked, Severus noted, what happened when there was an attempted escape. Who handled what. The hierarchy… Severus could acknowledge the intelligence there…an intelligence he could _use_.

The guards forced everyone back into their positions and bound them once more, as if the whole ordeal never happened. Lucius, apoplectic with rage, stormed up to the boy and slapped him squarely across the face, prominent rings grazing the boy's pale skin in thin red lines down his cheek.

"You'll regret that, boy!" Lucius snarled. He pressed his wand tip to the boy's throat, forcing the boy's chin up. Potter's eyes shone in challenge. " _Cruc—"_

"Pardon me, but I believe that _I_ am in charge of discipline here," Severus drawled, breaking the moment just as the spell was gathering on the end of Malfoy's wand.

There was one very tense heartbeat, but then Lucius nodded very slowly, taking deep breaths to get his anger under control. He sniffed. "You are, of course, correct."

Severus stalked forward dangerously, the movements of a predator. "I gave an order, Potter," Severus said, his voice low and smooth, like a snake in the grass. He stood over the boy, relishing in this small detail. "I expect to be obeyed."

"Sounds like you have a complex," the young man growled, and it was the first time the room heard his voice—young, too young. Sirius and Remus' eyes were riveted on the figure. Like everyone else, they too wondered where this would go, if the boy like so many before him would break quickly or slowly. Or die in the process.

"Do you believe you are the first one to come here spitting defiance and disrespect?" Severus asked, gesturing to the occupants of the room, chained and brought to heel. "You will learn in time what it means to be in _my care_. Do you not recognize them? The fallen heroes of your cause? Your _godfather_ , Sirius Black, perhaps? Ah, but I forget, you were raised _in isolation_."

The boy blinked at him, torn between anger and confusion. It was starting to make sense to Ron now, as Sirius was summoned to the front of the room. They recognized him because he was the son of someone they knew, _a Potter_. Ron had never met a Potter before, as they had all died in the first Wizarding War, but he knew there were rumors of a prophecy. Ron had never put much stock in it before as no one else in the Wizarding World had. It came as quite a shock that perhaps, Albus Dumbledore did, far too much, and _hid it from them_.

Crabbe Sr. forced Black to his knees before the warden. Harry's body was as rigid as ever, but there was a slight uncertainty there as watched what was to come. The warden reached down in a mockery of a caress, sending shocks of pain rolling through Sirius' body. The man-his godfather- actually whimpered, feeling the remnants of hot iron bars scalding his blistering skin, even though the wounds were now mere silvery scars.

"Meet your godfather, Potter," Severus jeered as he grabbed a fistful of Sirius' hair and yanked him to the side so that he fell on the ground in a miserable heap. "Pride has no place here. Disrespect will get you killed. Disobedience will lead to the most severe consequences."

Sirius' pathetic whimpers were causing Remus to shake, and even Harry wasn't unaffected. There was something so terribly wrong in the warden's vindictive smile, his gleaming onyx eyes as he held dominion over this other person. It wasn't _fair_.

The young man swallowed. Perhaps it had finally dawned on him that this would not be a pleasant stay.

"Black, too, thought himself above the law, above _me_ ," Severus said, giving Black a vicious kick to the stomach. "But even _dogs_ can be taught. Can't they, Black?"

The man groaned in pain. "Yes," he gasped out, hurried. "Yes…sir."

"It took fire and nerve eating poisons for your godfather. I _wonder_ ," Severus said, eyes gleaming. "What will it take for _you_?" He leaned in close to the boy's face, stroking a gentle hand down his cheek where Lucius' rings had cut it. It stung, the pain distracting the boy from the sheer intimacy of the gesture.

Harry looked away first, eyes catching his godfather's as he was led back to his place in the crowd. Those slender fingers ran down his neck and he suppressed a shudder or a shiver, he couldn't tell which, only that it was involuntary—a weakness.

"I'll enjoy taking my time with you," Severus said with a smile. He turned to Lucius curtly. "Do tell our Lord that his prize is quite safe with me."

Lucius bowed his head. "I will leave it to you. Come, Percy…"

The two exited by floo before the fire automatically snuffed out. Severus' hand was still wrapped around the boy's neck, curling around it but not squeezing. Potter's breath was coming out in shorter gasps now, the onset of a panic attack.

"We are finished here," Severus said, the words jarring the guards to start leading the prisoners back to their cells. Tentatively, Goyle came to approach the warden, his voice deferential.

"Shall we add him to the Order's Wing?" he asked. "In solitary or…?"

Severus didn't spare him a glance. "Later. I think Potter and I need to have a little chat."


	2. The Contract

The Hall was empty now, a great cavernous room with tiny windows against the ceiling that let the gloomy morning light stream in.

Harry regarded the warden warily. Minerva had spoken of him once, a man named Severus Snape, the youngest Potions Master in history, once a Hogwarts professor himself. Harry had even seen him once, once, when he was very young, hidden beneath his father's invisibility cloak. He was at Hogwarts over the summer for a brief time as Minerva had forgot to bring along her favorite tin of biscuits to her summer cottage. Albus had always been cautious about letting Harry near the grounds, but Minerva thought it worth the risk. Without Albus' master plan, Harry would have walked these halls too, as would have been his birthright. It was Minerva's way of trying to make it up to Harry, allowing him to accompany her under the cloak.

That day, Severus was emerging from the greenhouses clutching a bundle of dandelions, roots and all, in his fist. His seemed particularly grave. No nonsense, as he stalked down the halls, barking orders at wayward students who dared get in his way.

Harry had been intrigued and followed him, up until he couldn't anymore, and by that time he was quite lost in the dungeons. Minerva had quite had kittens. The lecture which followed was an unpleasant one, but Harry still remembered that day, the thrill of walking amongst other witches and wizards his age, the ability to see and not be seen…

The warden was different from the man he remembered. Hardened. Cruel. He was not merely unhappy but _twisted, vile, evil_. No wonder Minerva had felt so betrayed when the man's heart was revealed. It must have been such a disappointment to have a redemption story thrown in your face, that perhaps a second chance would be spent like the first, that not everyone could be _converted_. _Saved_.

"You must be hungry," Severus said gently, startling the boy from his memories. That hand was still there, light against his neck. Onyx eyes bored into his. "Come, we will eat."

The warden led the boy away, keeping a light grip on the back of the boy's neck. Harry wondered where exactly they were going, if the potions master intended to begin the interrogation of Albus' plans and whereabouts now, or if he was to be punished, poisoned first…

The hallways were narrow, filled with an icy terror. There were no dementors, only memories, and no prisoners lined these hallways leading to the offices and chambers of the guards. They passed several security checkpoints, where Snape had to press his Dark Mark to the archways, but eventually, they made it to a heavy oak door, decorated in ironwork.

The wards bent and the door swung open. Harry stepped through into the unfamiliar rooms. The wash of Azkaban was gone, sucked out, and he was enveloped in a warmth that wrapped around his frozen body. He couldn't help the small sigh of relief that passed through his lips at the change. Of course the warden did not live as the prisoners lived. Harry had just not thought about it before.

"Sit," the warden said firmly, gesturing towards a simple wooden chair at a tiny kitchen table. Clearly, the man did not do much entertaining in Azkaban. After a moment's hesitation, Harry carefully sat down, not daring to take his eyes off the man. His concentration was broken, however, when, with a pop, a plate of food appeared on the table: a loaf of bread, some fruit, a small chopped salad, some pieces of chicken. To the side, a glass of water. "I haven't poisoned anything," Severus said, taking a seat opposite him. "There is time for that later."

Severus took a bite of his own food before Harry felt safe enough to begin. He was well aware that the word of the warden meant nothing, but there was little choice in the matter. He was hungry, and if he was to be tortured, it would happen.

The food was delicious, especially since Harry hadn't had much to eat on the run. The fruit was juicy and fresh, and the chicken cooked to perfection.

"Is it to your liking?" Severus asked after several moments of silence.

Harry raised his eyes. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he stared down at the plate and realized it was nearly empty. He wouldn't feel ashamed about it now however, not when he was feeling so much better now. His stomach had stopped doing flip flops and he even felt bold enough to ask, "Do you wine and dine all your prisoners, warden?"

"When it works," Severus replied shortly. He dabbed lightly at the corners of his mouth with his napkin, his movements precise, as if every gesture was measured. "I have never met you before, and yet, I have learned a great deal about you already."

"Oh?" Harry took a sip of water.

"Indeed. I am not an unintelligent man myself. While I am sure it was no challenge to disarm Pettigrew, I found myself fascinated at your motives to release my prisoners. You must have known there was no chance of actual escape, and yet you wanted to see what would happen. The question is, whether you were testing the defenses or the prisoners. I can assure you on both accounts that my guards, though at times slow on the uptake, have a vested interest in not letting anyone escape, and if you had noticed, the Order members hardly tried to leave at all. They are all thoroughly broken."

Harry had heard of the Order, eavesdropping on a floo conversation Minerva had with a Mrs. Longbottom. It was a group of freedom fighters, the last stand against the Dark Lord, of which he was supposed to be an integral, but secret, part. Did the warden believe he was sent here to free them? The idea was absurd. He would not have sacrificed Minerva for anything, and there was no way she would have allowed Harry to step foot in Azkaban if she had been alive, even for a rescue mission. Strangely, the thought of her death didn't sting like before.

Harry took another sip of water. It didn't taste funny at all. It was refreshing, in fact. He savored it on his parched tongue.

"But then again," Severus continued, eyes sharp, "Perhaps not. Perhaps you were simply testing _me_. I would be most curious about what _you_ learned with your little experiment."

Harry swallowed as those obsidian eyes bored into his. Was it possible to read another's mind? "I've heard about you," he began steadily. "Severus Snape, the warden of Azkaban. You like to break people, put leashes around them…" He remembered the way Sirius Black cried on the floor, a broken man. Harry didn't know how he dared, but the words were spilling freely now. "They weren't wrong. You're a _monster_."

Instead of being upset, however, Severus seemed particularly satisfied with that answer. The warden cleared his throat. "I oversee the Wizarding World's most dangerous criminals. My methods bring results. Not one suicide. Not one escapee. I ensure that each and every one of you will die when the Dark Lord wills it and not a second before."

"Even you?" Harry asked.

Severus smirked, ignoring the barb. He clasped his hands on the table before him. "I believe we can help each other, _Harry_."

The bread was halfway to Harry's mouth before stopping. He glanced up sharply, sensing that the game had shifted, that he had been brought here for a reason that was only now becoming clear.

"Help…how?"

Severus leaned forward. "You've seen how prison twists people, breaks people until they are nothing but husks of their former selves. I can make your stay much more pleasant. I can _preserve you_."

Harry's hand began to shake as he reached for the water again. The shaking soon subsided and he frowned slightly at the glass, but didn't think much of it. "Preserve…" Harry repeated faintly.

"I can keep you safe, keep you fed, keep you clean. At the moment, only the Order has use of the wash room twice a week, others only once. I can allow you to shower whenever you'd like. I would invite you to eat _like this_ at least once a week, rather than the usual gruel and slop. I can keep the guards from playing with you, from severing your arms, from beating you black and blue…"

"And what would you get out of it?" Harry asked slowly, quietly. He hoped Minerva could not see him now, hoped that she would never dream that he was mulling the idea over in his suddenly very heavy head.

"A spy." The words hung in the air, heavy and thick. "I would gain a set of eyes and ears in the very heart of the Order. They know you are Dumbledore's last hope and they will rally around you, thinking that _this time_ they will finally be able to break free of my hold. We allow small uprisings now and again as a means to release pent up tension, but the Order has been quiet for too long. They are planning something."

The idea sat funny in Harry's stomach. He may not have had friends growing up, but he knew the concept well enough. Albus had people in Azkaban-Light people. Did he dare betray them before knowing them? And Severus…the man who seemed to dominate the space around him, commanding complete obedience even from the shadows…It was clearly a deal with the devil.

That hand was back, reaching across the small table that separated them, caressing the side of Harry's face. The boy was momentarily stunned. Minerva's touch had never _burned_ through him like this. " _Harry,_ make the intelligent decision…or end up like Black, shattered beyond repair. Become my _tool_ , my _spy_ , and I will keep you safe here. _I promise_."

Severus smiled, knowing that the potions laced in the food were making him susceptible to his suggestions. The boy just needed to agree, and then the contract would be sealed.

Harry blinked slowly as a scroll materialized and unrolled itself in front of him on the table. He looked up once at the warden, before slowly signing his name with the provided quill. Blood poured onto the page, slicing his hand open and he gasped, stunned. "What…?"

"Good boy," Severus purred.

And then Harry's head hit the table.

*

When Ron awoke, it was to scramble quickly away from another living person in his cell. _What the-?_ He recognized that tousled hair. It was the new boy, alive, apparently, by the way his chest rose and fell. Tentatively, Ron tried to wake him, shaking him gently on the shoulder. "Potter? P-Potter?"

"Ughn…" The boy rolled over in the cell, hands coming up to shield his face.

"Let the boy rest," Arthur said quietly from across the corridor. "Who knows what the warden did to him."

Ron shivered, remembering his own first night in Azkaban. He had been at the center of a torture circle, subjected to hours upon hours of the cruciatus before he finally begged for death. Later, Snape had water boarded him for hours, keeping him just at the edge of dying, drowning him over and over.

"Yeah…" Ron replied, giving Potter a pitying look. "We still have time before the wash room. I'll let him sleep till then."

Hermione and Ginny were both awake, peering unabashedly at the unconscious boy. Neither of them had been aware of another Order member. They wondered if he had news of the resistance, if he had fought in any battles himself. Ginny noticed a lightning bolt scar on his head, or perhaps it was a shadow from his messy hair. She pointed this out to Hermione who shrugged. "I don't know," Hermione said. "Curse scars are common, but none in that shape that I know of."

Neville was still snoring, but Remus was still comforting a crying Sirius, both barely awake. "You did so well, Sirius. There was nothing you could have done. You're not broken. You're just surviving, that's it."

Sirius' bleary eyes could just make out Harry's sleeping form some cells down. The guilt ate at him. "I failed him, Remus. I failed James. I didn't even know Harry was alive. None of us did, and now he's trapped just like us…and I've failed him. All he knows of me is that I'm a coward, that I've bowed to _Snape_."

"Shhh!" Ron hissed, feeling protective of his cell mate. "Keep it down…please?"

Remus nodded and patted Sirius softly on the back. They continued to hug and whisper. The red countdown clock floating in their cells was back. Soon, Potter would need to be roused for their twice weekly trip to the wash room. But for now, Ron let his eyes drift shut. He shouldn't feel so good to be less alone, not when it meant another one of them had been captured, but he appreciated the company all the same.

"Come on, Potter, you need to get up now," Ron said when there was five minutes left on the clock. "Come on. Doesn't a shower sound nice?"

Harry came to slowly. The aftereffects of the potion were wearing off, and his gut churned as he thought about what he had agreed to, what he had _signed_.

"Shower?" Harry repeated.

"Yeah, we get to go twice a week, rather than just a _scourgify_ from the guards," Ron grinned. "I'm Ron, by the way, Ron Weasley."

He stuck his hand out and Harry shook it cautiously. Did he know he was shaking hands with a traitor? That he was marked? "Harry," he replied.

"I'm Ginny Weasley!" a voice piped up to their side. "And this is Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Charlie Weasley, George Weasley, Bill Weasley, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and over there is my mum and dad."

"Molly and Arthur," Molly supplied with a warm smile. "It's not much of a welcome, I suppose, but welcome to the Order's Wing all the same. We're not all kept here. I think there are a couple more in other wings, and we're still not quite certain who exactly is on the run, but I'd say the name is apt."

Harry looked around at all the grimy faces. This was Albus' all-star team, all locked up in Azkaban. And he was here, Albus' secret weapon, similarly indisposed. "Thank you," he said softly. "It means a lot…"

It was chilly in the cell. Only a couple of blankets were afforded to them and a pillow, each. A hole was located in the back corner of each cell where waste would be vanished, a small and well appreciated luxury. At the end of the hall, there was a window that Harry could just see that revealed the ocean below and a grey sky.

"Oi, we need to hurry," Ron said. "Stick your hands out like this and the cuffs will appear. They won't pull us through the bars without them and trust me, it isn't worth pissing them off."

Harry rose to his feet beside Ron. _Make friends, spy, learn secrets_ …But all Harry could think about was showering with his hands tied. "How are you supposed to shower?" Harry wondered.

"The chain will stretch," Ron replied patiently, "I know it's a bit of a shock, getting used to it all, but honestly, it isn't as bad as it could be. You could have the warden's attention all the time, rather than just once a month during inspection—that would be a nightmare."

"Yeah…" Harry replied, sticking his hands out and watching as his wrists were cuffed. "A nightmare."

"Hands through the bars, you know the drill!" Rosier called, strutting down their hallway as the timer dropped to zero. He stopped in front of Ron and Harry's cell, sneering at the sight. "I'll state the rules again as there's a new guest today. No attempting to harm yourselves. No drowning. No fighting. You have three minutes of shower time each. The water will turn off automatically, no exceptions."

Without so much as a warning, Harry was yanked through the bars by the guard, followed by the rest of the Order. Harry followed Rosier to the washroom, attempting to memorize the twists and turns of the prison, but losing count after seven. Rosier ushered them in but didn't leave.

Ron went knowingly to the shelf above the sinks and grabbed a bar of soap for Harry and himself. "There's no time for modesty, but the girls stay on the left and we go to the right. If you double up, you get twice the time under the spray…if you don't mind, that is."

"Oh." Harry felt his cheeks redden. He had never stripped off in front of someone else before, having never lived in a dormitory or been in a locker room. But he wouldn't be fussy about it, though. He nodded to Ron. A six minute shower certainly sounded better than a three minute one. "No, that's fine."

"Great, thanks!" Ron wasn't looking at him, already working on yanking his prison robes over his head. Beside them, Neville, most of the Weasleys, and Sirius and Remus were waiting or disrobing.

Harry had just yanked his own linen over his head and put it on top of Ron's, when he met Rosier's eyes. The man leered at him, making no effort to look away or pretend otherwise.

"Perv," Ron muttered in his ear. "Don't mind him. He'll usually leave you alone if you're quick about it."

Harry paled further, wanting to hide his genitals, and indeed, turned away from the man to do so. The second they stepped under the shower head, the timer began, though there was no floating clock this time. Harry scrubbed his body efficiently, then his hair and face. The water wasn't freezing cold, nor was it warm. Still, there was something refreshing about being clean for once, even after a single night in the cell.

When the water tapered off, Harry reached for the threadbare towel on top of the pile. He dried himself off quickly, shivering. Then Bill and Charlie entered the shower they had just vacated.

"Mouth cleaning potions in the cabinet," Ron said, hurriedly redressing. "Spit, don't swallow them. Snape's cruel, but he knows his way around a cauldron. Probably cuts down on operating costs too."

"You think it's safe?" Harry asked, thinking of a dozen ways in which the potion could be mixed with something else.

"It works, doesn't it?" George said, cutting into the conversation and headed to the sinks himself. "I figure we're already being drugged. Everyone knows the food's laced with Relaxers even though you can't taste it—"

Harry started imperceptibly. "Relaxers?" He had never heard of such a thing before. "Are they like tranquilizers?" He remembered blacking out at the end of dinner…of course, he had suspected the food was just an excuse to drug him, but he hadn't been sure.

George shrugged. "A cross between a sleeping draught and an antidepressant. Just keeps things sort of numb and calm? It's probably in everything, even the shower water. But I wouldn't worry too much about things you can't change."

Harry was beginning to get a queasy feeling in his stomach. _Relaxers_. "I—" He rushed to the toilets lining one of the walls and promptly vomited into it. Ron looked on in pity, crouching behind Harry and rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"And after his shower too…" George lamented. "Better use a mouth potion, yeah?"

"Poor little Potter, sick already?" Rosier crooned, hovering over them. "The warden did say to keep an eye on you. Felt that you were too fragile for Azkaban."

"It's nothing," Ron was saying, glaring at the guard. "We can handle it."

"Can you?" Rosier sneered. "I'm afraid this will need to be added to the report. If Potter can't handle his stomach after a trip to the shower, perhaps we'll just have to hose him down the old fashioned way. Chain him by his toes over the ocean, pull him up for air- see if he's still _kicking_."

But no, Severus had promised Harry plenty of showers in exchange for his soul. Showers… _whenever he'd like_ …Harry promptly vomited again, the memory of last night hazy, drifting up from the depths of his mind. Of what he had _done_. Rosier barked out a laugh, thinking that Harry was terrified of _him_.

Ron ushered him over to the sink and tipped the mouth cleaning potion into his mouth. He spit it out like mouthwash after watching Charlie demonstrate. When they were marched back to their cell, Harry was still slightly nauseous and swaddled himself in his blanket, hunched against the back of the cell.

"It's going to be okay," Hermione said through the bars. "You'll see."

"Yeah, we've been planning something for a while now," Ginny whispered. "We were waiting for a sign from Dumbledore. You know, sometimes they give us the prophet and there's _code_ in it. And then you came."

A plan. Despite his own uneasy feelings, Harry's interest was piqued. "Plan?" he echoed.

Ginny smiled in triumph, having succeeded in making the newcomer less despondent. "Yeah, we've coordinated with the North and East blocks too. One day, we're going to get out of here."

"Shhh, Ginny," Molly admonished.

Ginny flushed and ducked her head. "Later. When the guards are changing shifts. It gives us fifteen minutes thereabouts to talk more freely in the Hall during dinner—the big room we were in before."

"I see," Harry said, mind racing. He was torn between telling them to keep him out of it and wanting to know every last detail. Albus had kept him out of the war, no matter how much Harry begged to be allowed to fight. Now, finally, there might be something he could do. Severus might have tricked him into signing a contract, but that didn't mean he wasn't his own person. If he was careful… "I'd love to help."


	3. Plotting

The scrap of the _Prophet_ article was laid out on the table.

"It says here about a _delivery_. I think that means you, a new arrival. It's a sign, it's got to be," Ginny said excitedly, jabbing her finger at the article about a statue delivery to be placed in the Ministry or Magic.

Neville was looking up at Harry carefully. His posture seemed wary, nearly hostile. "I don't know Ginny," Neville said. "Don't you think it's a little too obvious? Potter arrives and we'll just move out into the open?"

"We have to move _sometime_ ," Ginny snapped with a roll of her eyes. She placed her hands on her hips, reminiscent of Molly's own posture when the twins had set off a particularly irritating round of fireworks in the house. "Harry can be a real asset or did you not see the way he vanished everyone's chains yesterday?"

Neville pressed his lips into a thin line and gave Harry a once over that was openly hostile this time. The hair on Harry's arms stood up. "I'm sorry, but did I do something to you?" Harry asked.

"You arrive out of _nowhere._ No one has even heard of you before last night, and yet, here we are, telling you all about our _plans_." Neville looked beseechingly at the other Order members. "Am I the only one who remembers what happened to Cedric Diggory?"

The Order paused, a sense of shame now descending over the meeting.

"What happened to Cedric Diggory?" Harry asked, frustrated when even Ron wouldn't meet his eyes.

Neville banged his fist against the table. "He was a spy and he _got caught_."

"It wasn't his fault though," Hermione protested weakly. "He was under the imperius and…he's dead."

Harry ignored the chill through his bones. "I'm not…I'm not a spy," Harry denied, shaking his head. "Do you think I _wanted_ to come here? Do you think it was easy for me to watch as _Minerva_ , the woman who raised me, was tortured to death before my eyes? Do you imagine for one second that I've been raised in isolation just so that I can _reappear in Azkaban_ to _spy_ on prisoners?" Tears leaked from the corners of Harry's eyes, from anger and desperation. He was only a spy in name. He wasn't a traitor—he wasn't.

Neville took a step back, swallowing. He remembered the way his parents, too, had been taken from him, and felt instantly ashamed. "It's nothing personal," he said tightly. "We've just made too many mistakes. We trusted Cedric too before we realized he was passing messages to Rosier. When his use was over, the warden fed him to Fenrir before us in this very room. And before that, when I first came here, everyone was convinced _that I_ was a sign. It was a spectacular failure and our plans were cut off at the knees. The warden figured it out somehow, even without an insider. Someone spilled the beans during the monthly inspection and Mr. Weasley and Remus took the fall for it." His eyes were hard as he gazed at Harry. "We can't afford another failure."

Harry nodded. He sympathized with these people. He was one of them, no matter how hard the warden tried to separate him at the start. More than ever, he wanted _in_. He could make up for his foolishness of being drugged and signing a contract while under the influence. He could make up for his inability to save Minerva, to keep the world from falling to the Dark.

Fuck the warden and his sodding contract. A hot meal and a shower were not _worth_ these people's lives.

"We'll be more cautious this time around," Remus promised haltingly, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. Remus could still feel the pain of that night, trapped in his wolf form, caged in silver with a silver muzzle and collar biting into his skin. He had bashed his head against the floor to knock himself out, mindless beast that he was. "But sacrifices are essential in war. I-I would do it again."

"I agree," Arthur said quietly. He never spoke of his punishments, but it was clear how much more reserved he was to all who knew him. "We are running out of time, Neville, but we need to take some risks. I have rarely ever felt that kind of magical power, Harry. They drain our magic every week, but they can only take half or risk killing us. It's enough for most grown witches and wizards to lose their ability entirely, but you…All you need is a wand."

"And we have plans to secure wands," Hermione added quickly, just as Charlie signaled that the guards were coming back from the shift change. "Three to be precise. Targeted attacks on the weakest links. It's just-"

"The warden," Ron finished, looking at Harry in earnest. "We have all the pieces planned, the escape boats when they bring the monthly provisions, and everything. The only loose end is that the warden has that _power_ over us."

"Hurry," Bill hissed, gesturing to the door.

"Yeah," Harry said softly. "He makes you obey."

"It's a bond," Ron said, raising his hand and showing Harry a slight silver mark on his wrist. "Dark, nasty stuff. But if the warden is out of the picture and we're far enough away from him, the bond breaks. Too much strain being pulled in all different directions. Simple as that."

The doors banged opened loudly and Yaxley and Dolohov strolled in. The newspaper article was gone from the table in the blink of an eye, and the Order resumed eating their gruel like nothing was amiss.

But Harry's mind was whirring.

He had signed a contract with the warden, not entered into a bond. _Why?_ If he was the Light's last hope, why keep him untethered? He looked down at the mush in his bowl, gathering it up with his plastic spoon. It tasted terrible, and was almost certainly laced with Relaxer. Harry put the spoon back down, spitting out what was in his mouth into a napkin most discreetly. He refused to eat.

When the bowls all vanished with a pop at the end of the dinner hour, Harry was filled with determination. The potions were wearing off entirely now and his mind began to settle back in place. His thoughts becoming sharper and more focused. Harry was shoved into his cell beside Ron, the entire hallway going dark as the night fell. The guards were all playing cards- and drinking, most likely- as the entire fortress was locked down.

_I'll do it_ , Harry thought to himself, _I'll take care of the warden._

oOo

"What was it like?" Ron asked in the hazy morning hours, propped up on one shoulder. "Were you really raised in isolation?"

Harry stared up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the prison. Coughs, rattling bones, and murmurs from nightmares. "Minerva kept me company, mostly. She had a cottage where I lived. I only ever saw Albus and her and a couple house-elves…Sometimes I got to come along with her to Hogwarts." It sounded so depressing when he said it, but it wasn't entirely. He had had a loving home and learned more about magic than he guessed he would have at Hogwarts.

Ron's eyebrows drew up. "I never noticed you at Hogwarts."

"Oh, that's because I've got an invisibility cloak."

"Wicked," Ron breathed. "I could have walked right passed you."

Harry laughed. "Possibly. I saw the warden once when I was there. He wasn't any wiser."

"That was my first year," Ron said, eyes shuttered. "Yeah, before Hogwarts fell, the warden was just _Professor Snape_. Funny how I can barely remember that time. My brothers say he was a right bastard even then…nothing compared to now, mind you, but certainly not someone to mess with." Absently, Ron traced the bonding mark on his wrist, a small jagged scar that looked like a cut with a knife.

"What was it like?" Harry asked, "Hogwarts, before it fell?"

"Nice," Ron said dreamily. "There were moving staircases, friendly ghosts-mostly, a bunch of secret passageways. I was sorted into Gryffindor. Right, well, Gryffindor is—"

"Minerva told me," Harry said with a laugh.

"Of course she did," Ron grinned. "Well, I was sorted into Gryffindor like everyone else in my family. Hermione was too. We didn't get on much at first, to be perfectly honest, but then we fought a troll together, me, Hermione, and Neville. It was pretty unforgettable."

"I think I heard about that, second-hand," Harry said. "It was a diversion, wasn't it? For Voldemort to steal the stone?"

Ron shook his head frantically. "You can't say his name!"

Harry blinked. "Volde-"

"Shhhh," Ron placed a finger against Harry's lips. "There's a taboo. It probably doesn't mean anything here since we're already in Azkaban, but you don't want to draw _his_ attention."

Harry frowned in thought as Ron pulled his hand away. "But I've always called him that. Dumbledore always said I should."

"Yes, well," Ron snorted, rolling onto his back beside Harry. "We've all listened to Dumbledore and here we all are."

Harry was taken aback by the bitterness in Ron's voice. He certainly wasn't Albus' greatest fan, having strained against the man's control for most of his life, yearning for _freedom_ to come out of hiding. Still, he had thought the Order worshiped Albus like a sun god.

"I mean," Ron amended a second later, "We're supposed to be Dumbledore's Army, but everyone but Dumbledore is in Azkaban. I thought at first that he would find a way to save us, break us out somehow. I mean, if You-Know-Who could stage a prison break, why couldn't the great Albus Dumbledore? Defeater of Grindelwald? Man of the Chocolate Frog cards? After a while, I started to realize we were on our own, that if we wanted to be rescued, we'd have to do it ourselves."

"You feel betrayed," Harry said understandingly. He traced a crack in the ceiling.

"Yeah," Ron said, letting out a long low breath. "Sorry, I've been holding that one in for a while now."

"Don't apologize," Harry said. "I know Ginny thinks I'm part of some grand plan to get you out of here, but I think you know that Albus didn't send me. Still," Harry continued at Ron's encouraging nod. "I'll do everything in my power to help us all get off this island."

Ron gave him a grin, and then most unexpectedly, patted Harry on the arm before drifting off to sleep. "You're a good person, Harry Potter."

oOo

"Right this way," the warden's voice floated to them from afar, followed by sure footsteps.

Everyone was awake by now, going in and out of daydreams. The Relaxers did their job well, but Harry was alert, peering through his fringe as two sets of dragon hide boots stepped into view.

"You keep them all together?" an imperial, whiny voice cried in disgust. It belonged to a young man who looked much like Lucius Malfoy but younger, more delicate. _His son_.

"It amuses our Lord to keep the collection together, as it were," the warden drawled. His glittering black eyes roved over the prisoners before assessing Harry like he was dirt beneath his nails. "I assure you, Draco, I would have derived no greater pleasure from keeping them in _isolated confinement_ until they went mad, but even the Dark Lord is not so cruel."

Draco snorted and Harry suddenly found himself being studied by those light grey eyes. " _Harry Potter_ ," Draco spat, "You don't even appreciate Our Lord's mercy, do you?"

Harry turned away, not wanting to deal with this spoiled brat any longer than necessary. Draco stomped his foot. "I demand an answer!" Draco whined again. "Severus, is there a reason why this prisoner is not yet broken?"

"Seeing as your father ungraciously gave me an _armed_ prisoner, I hardly think you're in a position to be telling tales."

Draco sniffed, turning his nose up in the air. "As if I would go to the Dark Lord with something like this. Come now, how long will it take?"

"Until hell freezes over," Harry growled, pressing against the bars, magic crackling from his fingertips. He wasn't fully adept at wandless spellcasting, and the prison itself seemed to suppress his magic somehow, but his rage was palpable. If this prick thought he could just whine and make the sea part for him, he had another thing coming.

"Harry, no!" Hermione moaned, a sentiment echoed silently or softly by the rest of the hall.

"You dare speak to me like that?" Draco snarled, reaching through the bars and trying to grab the boy without fully entering the cage. "You think you have any _rights_?"

Harry dodged skillfully, blessed with good reflexes. Draco was unable to grab him, which only frustrated him further. " _Severus!_ " Draco whined, pointing at Harry like he was a particularly bad dog. " _Do something!"_

Harry had a split second to think about what _something_ might be, when a hand curled around his neck, pulled him through the bars and then slammed him back against it, so hard that his eyes saw stars. He barely registered Draco's glee as Severus leaned in close. "You little _idiot_!" the warden growled. "Is this how you repay mercy?"

Harry blinked, trying to clear the stars from his vision. The hand on his throat tightened and he felt himself going limp out of sheer self-preservation. He was aware of the Order's eyes on him, of Ron's terrified face peering off from the side.

"I would have thought," Severus said lowly, "that after I had fed you the nerve severing potion, you would have learned your lesson by now. Is it possible that you have forgotten to bow after such a short time?"

"I—" Harry's words were choked off with another squeeze.

"You will kneel before Draco, and then you will kneel before me and kiss my boots. Is that clear enough for you, Potter?" Severus's eyes flashed in warning before he released Harry's neck.

Harry slid down against the iron bars, shakily pressing his forehead to the ground facing Draco, and then shuffling to do the same to Severus. Just as he was about to get up, a boot came to rest upon his back, forcing him back down. Those onyx eyes were drilling holes into his and Harry leaned down, pressing a small kiss to the very toe of the warden's boot, and then the other for good measure. His heart was pounding a mile a minute.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Severus asked mockingly, pushing Harry backwards into his cell again.

Draco smiled haughtily at Harry before fixing his gaze on someone else.

"Surely, I can have a moment alone with my bride-to-be?" Draco asked, his voice gone lower. He licked his lips, gazing at Ginny Weasley who was glaring right back. " _Unsupervised_."

"I'm afraid I can't allow it," Severus stated. "The Order is a cunning bunch, no matter how low they are brought. I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you. Nor would I be able to explain it to your father, or to the Dark Lord for that matter."

Draco clenched his teeth. "It would only be for a moment."

"Of that, I have no doubt," Severus sneered, making Draco turn red. "Very well. Take her to the interrogation room. You have ten minutes."

"Agreed," Draco said distractedly, yanking Ginny forward to the cries of her parents.

In exactly ten minutes, a teary-eyed Ginny Weasley was tossed back into her cell. She crumbled to the ground as Hermione held her.

"You absolute bastard!" Ron screamed, spitting in Draco's face. "I'll kill you, you hear? When I get out!"

Draco only laughed louder. "I'd like to see you try."


	4. Draining Day

There was something heady about having Harry Potter with his shining green eyes kiss his boots and look up at him. _Kneeling_.

Severus had never dreamed that Lily's son had survived, not until the Dark Lord assumed the throne of Wizarding Britain and declared the boy's capture to be of the utmost of importance. Artist renderings on the wanted posters did Harry Potter little justice. He was more lovely that he could have ever thought-a truly heinous crime that Dumbledore had hidden him from the world.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called, barely turning as Dolohov pulled Harry into his quarters by the scruff of his neck.

"I'll leave him here, shall I?" Dolohov leered, exiting with a saunter in his step.

The boy's green eyes turned to him. Accusing, sharp. Severus' eyes narrowed.

"You're not eating," Severus stated, turning a page in his book. "Rosier said you nearly fainted in the washroom. I refuse to lose my spy to a slip in the shower."

"You know exactly why I'm not eating," Harry growled, rounding on Severus who was sitting as cool as you please in his chair. "I won't take your potions!"

"Very well." Harry stopped in his tracks. Severus raised his eyes to meet his. "You don't want to be in an artificial state of calm, though you will likely regret your decision. I want you to eat. I can oblige this request. But what will you give me in return?"

Harry sputtered. "I don't—You already own me, don't you? What more could you want?"

"You signed a contract," Severus corrected, knowing full well he was lying. He carefully marked his page and turned to face the flustered young man standing in his quarters. "It is merely a job. It isn't _servitude_."

"You're asking me to spy on my friends."

"Friends already?" Severus hummed, amused. "My, you do work fast, don't you? And these friends of yours, have they already told you their plans to escape Azkaban?"

Harry grit his teeth. "I'm not telling," Harry said resolutely, crossing his arms over his chest. His determination wavered, however, when a delightful smell came wafting from the dining room.

"Ah," Severus said knowingly, "But I forget my manners, you must be tired, Harry. Hungry. I took you away from dinner, after all, and you'll need all your strength for the draining tomorrow."

Ron had told him of the magical draining, once a week on Friday. Harry shuddered. "I don't want to eat your food," Harry said, though his stomach chose that precise minute to growl.

Severus quirked a supercilious eyebrow. "You want to eat food that isn't laced with Relaxers. _Fine_. We can talk after you eat and have a shower."

Harry paused. He hadn't asked be brought here. Dolohov had just manhandled him out of his seat in the Hall and dropped him off here. He didn't intend to report on his friends, which meant that the warden wasn't obligated to hold up his side of the bargain either.

"I can't," Harry said wearily. "I can't tell you. I can't eat your food or-or take a shower."

"You have concerns about our arrangement," Severus said, nodding, moving over to the boy and steering him towards the table with a firm hand upon his shoulder.

"Of course I do!" Harry snapped, resolutely not trying to stare at or smell the delicious food beneath his nose, at the warm tomato soup that reminded him of warmer days.

"Well, we can simply dissolve it. The contract ends when you unable to perform your duties. I'll just have to let all your little _friends_ know and you'll be free," Severus sneered.

"No, no, they can't know," Harry whispered. "You can't tell them. I haven't told you anything. I'm not your spy!"

Severus' eyes glittered in the dim light of the room. They were so dark and deep, like the bottom of the ocean. Harry found himself falling into them. _Drowning_. "You're under the false impression that you need to _speak_ for me to pull the knowledge from your mind. I assure you, you're protecting no one by starving yourself. I already know. The provision boats, the wands, the wards."

Harry pressed back against his chair, bewildered. He had never been told of such mind arts before. There were vague whisperings of the Dark having unlocked a new power of interrogation, but Albus hadn't been able to pass that knowledge along to Harry or train him to protect himself in any way.

A spoonful of soup was passed beneath his nose. Harry looked up at the warden, startled.

"Eat," he commanded, pressing the spoon against the boy's lips. It smelled so wonderful up close, so absolutely wonderful. The gruel the prison usually served was thick and gloppy with little taste. Harry opened his mouth obediently as the flavors splashed against his tongue.

Harry frowned at the warden, confused and feeling utterly out of his element. Why was he letting this man feed him?

He needn't have worried, however, since Severus made no move to feed Harry again. For after the first taste, Harry could no longer help himself but continue to feast. _He was so hungry…_ He pushed his guilt to the back of his mind as he ate, telling himself that one day, the warden would regret strengthening him, that one day, he would make it up to the Order and free them all.

He ate with gusto, challenging the warden to comment on his atrocious table manners or his change in heart, his moral failings…but the warden ate his own dinner, studying him in the silence.

Once dinner was over, the warden led him to a little room down the hall.

"A promise is a promise," the warden mocked, gesturing the boy towards the bathroom.

"A shower sounds nice, actually," Harry snapped, trying to sound as entitled as possible. The warden's unimpressed look took the wind from his sails, but still, he marched into the little room and turned the shower on till the water ran blistering hot, steaming up the room. He couldn't help the small contented sigh as he rinsed the dirt away, letting the warmth fall over him… A shower, in fact, felt heavenly.

oOo

At some point, Harry blinked to find himself curled up contentedly on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket by the fire. He felt so nice, so warm and safe…he remembered the way the water ran in rivulets down his arms and stomach, staring at it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. All thoughts of revenge scurrying from his mind…

"You drugged the shower water," Harry murmured as an afterthought, too cozy to really care. "You tricked me again."

Severus sat next to him on the couch, carding his fingers through the boy's hair, still slightly damp from the shower. His voice was deep and soothing when he spoke. "Would you like me to refrain from using Relaxers on you completely?"

Harry thought about this, or tried to through the cotton in his head. "I…"

"It feels nice, doesn't it? To drift, to be content? It's what they used to give dying animals."

"Oh…" Harry snuggled into the warmth radiating from the body beside him. Was he a dying animal, then? "I don't want to die."

"Then I shan't give you any more."

"Hmmm." Harry burrowed further into the warmth, pressing up against the hand.

"And what will you give me in return?" Severus continued.

Harry tried to think about this too. He looked into the dancing flames, the warmth quickly drying his hair. The fingers felt so nice on his scalp. He sighed. "Whatever you want. Anything…to not…feel like this."

"Anything?"

Harry frowned, struggling to remember anything clearly. "If-if that's what I said."

"And what if I want this?" Severus asked. And all of a sudden, those obsidian eyes were in front of his, gleaming, and there was a soft brush of lips against his.

Harry's eyes widened dramatically. "Oh, I never—" he breathed. It had always just been him and Minerva and the house elves. Albus, the occasional visitor. When had there been room to have romance and love and lust and everything in between?

"Never?"

Emerald eyes blinked up at him. "Just now. With you."

That hand on his neck was back, stroking him, revealing his naked shoulder beneath the blanket. "Then that is what you will give to me."

And before Harry could think much more of it, those lips were back, pressing earnestly against him, a tongue slipping between his own lips. His eyes fluttered shut. Everything was so dreamy and hazy and numb. He was lost in it, as those hands cradled his face…

"HARRY, HARRY, HARRY! Oh Merlin, he's not waking!" Ron was shouting.

"I'm up," Harry moaned, eyes sealed shut. His head pounded something fierce, like the time after he had gotten in Minerva's liquor cabinet that one Halloween. Just ten times worse.

"You are _not_ up," Ron retorted.

"Trying," Harry groaned. Flashes of memory were coming back to him now. A _kiss_. "Stop yelling."

When the room righted itself, Harry blinked at Ron who was still staring at him like he had three heads.

"Sorry for screaming," Ron said, ears going red. "Interrogations are pretty brutal, I know. I nearly wet myself the first few times before they figured out I had nothing."

 _Interrogation_. Did Harry say anything last night? He couldn't remember…He didn't think he did. _Those lips_.

"I think he drugged me," Harry groaned, pressing a hand to his head.

Ron snorted. "That goes without saying. They haven't yet found a potion that can force the truth out of anyone, so they just give you extra-strength Relaxer. It seriously clouds your judgement, but you can generally refuse to do anything you don't really want to. It's how we're able to plot without being caught. If you want something locked in your mind badly enough, they can't get to it."

"It's called _occlumency,_ Ron," Hermione huffed. "Everyone has some form of natural occlumency. I'm sure Harry didn't give away any of our secrets if _you_ didn't when you were high as a kite."

Ron blushed. "Yeah, wasn't doubting you for a second, mate. I was just worried. Truly. Sorry you had to go through that."

A hot meal. A warm shower. Lavender soap. Blankets by the fire.

"Yeah," Harry said, throat tight. "I'm sorry too."

And guilt coiled tightly like a snake in his gut.

oOo

The prisoners followed a schedule, not that they were allowed a clock. Friday was draining day, followed by an hour of free time in the Hall where they rested.

"It's not so bad," Ginny said with a slight shiver. "You hardly notice it, after a while…And afterwards, they leave us alone for a bit to recover while they supervise the rest of the drainings."

Harry wasn't so convinced.

They were led in chains to a small chamber in the heart of Azkaban right as the sun was setting. Magic was already suppressed here, but to live without it? To be depleted? ("Only half," Hermione had said.) The idea sent Harry into a panic with no Relaxers in his breakfast or drinking water to help him.

Harry squinted, trying to make out just what was happening so far down below, as they were in a balcony of sorts. An odd sun-like orb pulsed in the air overhead, shining red and green and gold and blue. It seemed so lovely and for a second, Harry quite forgot what they were there for.

"What is that?" Harry whispered, wonderingly, eyes wide, taking in the warmth.

Down below, a young woman with tangled brown locks was thrust into the center of the floor, three guards surrounding her, and then, before Harry could blink, the orb descended upon her like a bludger and she let out a shriek, loud enough to wake the dead. The orb pulsated against her heart, drawing from her what seemed like strands of sparkling air towards itself.

Harry shook his head rapidly. He couldn't. No, no, no. He couldn't do this. He moved slightly, but the chains held him in place, wedged between Ron and Hermione and Remus. There was no way he could escape.

From another small balcony, the warden stood surveying the proceedings. His black robes billowed about him as the magic swirled in the air. Harry pointedly ignored him, feeling the back of his neck heat up, and prayed to Merlin no one noticed.

Hours seemed to pass before Hermione was on the floor, the orb taking from her what it wanted. Her magic was light and airy, a light lilac purple that curled ever so delicately at the end. It was such a horrible thing to witness, but he stared fascinated at the strands of magic coming off of her, unable to look away.

Ron's magic was spiky, orange and red. It was furious, wild, coming out of him like needles. Ron screamed when the orb detached itself from him, falling forward on the floor until one of the guards hauled him up and thrust him towards the exit where another guard was stationed.

And then, it was Harry's turn. He was not alone in recognizing the tragic beauty of the draining, and he could feel the eyes of the Order on his back, appraising him. Rosier dragged him into position, stepping quickly away and erecting an invisible shield to keep himself from being made a target.

Harry had but three seconds to stare at the pulsing orb up close before it descended. He could feel its heat, scorching him to the core as it floated over to his chest. There was a tugging, and then, he felt something inside him loosen from his very heart. Strands of brilliant gold began to leach from him, reaching towards the orb, like he was bleeding. A scream pierced the air, or was it he who made that sound?

He tried to pull his magic back, desperately, wildly, but the orb was greedy and tugged all the harder, pulling and pulling until— _pop!_ It was as if a drain had been unclogged and a torrent of veritable energy _swooshed_ out of him, cascading up the chamber like a flamethrower. The orb was sucking it all in, eating away at the energy, but it was too much.

The orb began to crack…

Light, brilliant light! Colors of every shade and curls of every size and shape began to wriggle free from the cracks, pushing their way outwards…

The orb was going to burst—Harry was filled with a rush of triumph just as his knees gave out—and then it did—the glass shards exploded outwards, sharp and fast—

This would be the end. A projectile to the eyes, to the heart, slicing through his internal organs—

" _PROTEGO!"_ Severus shouted with a bang, a shimmering silver shield materializing in thin air just as the glass bullets sprung, ricocheting off the shield's surface with loud cracks.

Harry's chest rose and fell, eyes opening to find a shard of crystal hovering inches from his face, strands of magic wrapped around it like ammunition. Severus descended from the balcony like a fury, his face contorted in rage. He slashed his wand at the guards, "Crucio!"

"But Severus! It's hardly our fault," Dolohov pleaded.

"And how will you explain it to our Lord that they're all DEAD?" the warden thundered, waving his wand again and healing the magical orb so that it hovered innocuously in the air once again. "And you!"

The warden rounded on the young man who was at the center of it all. "Do you want Azkaban to come crashing down around our heads? The magic is used to keep this island afloat so we all don't dive headlong into the sea! Or were you thinking nothing but of yourself?"

"I—I didn't know," Harry gasped out.

Severus shook him by the collar of his robes, jostling his already pounding head. "Well, rest assured that I will have a separate orb prepared for you," he spat, throwing Harry to the ground. "One which you'll be hard pressed to destroy. Now _go_."

Harry was shaking visibly, the magical drain leaving him weak. He stumbled his way towards the exit, thinking belatedly that Severus' magic, as it had swirled around the chamber to contain the explosion, had felt like a warm caress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always loved and appreciated!


	5. Just a Fool

Molly and Arthur sat huddled together under a threadbare blanket. Beside them, Remus and Sirius in a similar position, then the rest of the Weasleys, Hermione, and Neville. The moon was rising in the sky now, but they still had some time before they would be brought from the Hall and taken to their cells. A drained prisoner was a weak prisoner, it was believed, which was why their free period immediately followed their weekly draining.

No one talked for a while, still suffering from the lightheadedness of the process.

"I miss Fred," George said quietly, suddenly. He looked up at the moon and then at his mother. "I miss laughing."

There was a beat of silence before Hermione cleared her throat. "I miss learning spells and reading books…It felt so wonderful to learn about magic, back when things were simpler."

Harry raised his head slightly, watching as Neville shut his eyes beside Hermione. They were going around the circle now.

"I miss Gran," Neville said. "She fought till her last breath alongside Firenze. Bellatrix got to her, just like she got to my parents."

"I miss the woods," Remus said with a soft sigh. "I miss running through them and eating a bar of chocolate whenever the fancy struck."

"I miss running with you," Sirius said softly. "I hate that we're here, that we're trapped."

"I miss home," Ginny said. "I miss the Burrow…even degnoming the garden."

"I miss home too," Charlie and Bill said at once. Arthur nodded solemnly.

"I miss waking up in a warm bed and having breakfast with my family," Arthur said.

"I miss everything," Molly said miserably.

"I miss playing quidditch and feeling the wind through my hair," Ron said. "I miss worrying about things like World Cup instead of my life, whether I'll wake up tomorrow…And you, Harry?"

All eyes turned to Harry as he knew they would, having watched them go down the line. "I miss Minerva," he said softly. "I miss the cottage."

They sat in companionable silence until the guards led them to their cells. It had been nothing but confessions, selfish wishes, wants, and daydreams…but there was something cathartic in it. Harry realized that it was perhaps one of the only bonding experiences he had ever had.

oOo

It was the middle of the night, but Harry was jolted awake by a low moan. He stayed as still as possible, breathing slowly through his nose. It had been a week since he had last seen the warden and his stomach was beginning to cramp with hunger pains. They attacked in the middle of the night, at all hours of the day, the gruel not helping a bit—if anything, making his hunger worse.

The moan came again.

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes, noticing that Ron's blanket was empty. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he turned slightly, seeing Ron slightly hunched over in the corner. He was standing and his arm was moving fast, hand curled around—

Harry blushed furiously and shut his eyes again. _Oh_.

Minerva had given him the talk before, of course, but he had never ever been around someone his age before for so long. It was bound to happen, but…everyone in their wing was sleeping soundly, only the soft sounds emitting from Ron broke the silence.

Harry hadn't been able to experience the normal benchmarks of adulthood. No kisses behind the quidditch bleachers, dances at the Yule Ball, or even those adolescent fumbles in the dark. Ron came with a low groan that sounded awfully like _Hermione_ , the sounds of something splashing into the hole in the corner making it clear that Ron was finished. He panted quietly, hand pressed against the cell wall. Harry was absolutely mortified.

Should he pretend he hadn't listened? Hadn't seen? Ron came back to his spot on the floor a few moments later, pulling his blanket around himself and snuggling close to Harry for warmth.

Harry lay awake for hours, even as Ron began to snore. What must it be like to love someone? To know that even though you might rot the rest of your life away in captivity, that you were with someone who might love you back? He wondered if Hermione felt the same way about Ron, if she knew, or if she were just wanking material, a fantasy that involved the only other girl in the wing that wasn't his sister or his mother…

Absently, Harry touched his lips, remembering the feel of another's moving against his. The memory was encapsulated in a hazy syrup, as if it were part dream, part memory. But Harry was sure it had happened, that the warden had looked at him with a different kind of _hunger_ that burned through every nerve on Harry's body. He was sure of it, how the fire had felt on his naked body as it was revealed, the blanket falling past his shoulder, pooling around his waist…

The rest was completely lost to him, into some sort of drugged oblivion. He reached down to tug at his cock experimentally, wondering if he dared try before the sun rose. Ginny's wide morning yawn put an end to that train of thought, however.

If Harry was quieter at breakfast that morning as he ate his mush, Ron didn't comment on it, only laughed at something Hermione had said like the sun rose and fell for her.

oOo

It was cleaning day, something which came around every two weeks. Rosier smiled nastily as Harry, Sirius, and Remus were led down to the loading docks right after breakfast. They had buckets of soapy water and some rags which were shoved into their hands.

"You know the drill. If these planks aren't clean by dinner, you aren't getting any," Rosier laughed.

The loading docks were old wooden planks, held up by magic. Once a month, a few boats came with food and supplies, pulling up to the docks. Apart from the floo that allowed new prisoners to be brought to the island, which could only be used by those who bore the Dark Mark (or were accompanied by one who did), there was no other fast way to escape the prison.

If they so wished, they could probably leap off the docks and die, but when Harry reached around the wooden platform, he found that there was a magical barrier preventing him from approaching the water. Remembering what the warden had said about dying at the right time, Harry ground his teeth. He reached for a rag and began to scrub.

Remus and Sirius fell into a rhythm, wringing out the rags and handing each other new, soapy ones. Every so often, they would shoot him concerned looks before looking at each other.

"Harry…" Remus began finally, hanging onto the rag that he was about to pass to him. "If you ever want to talk, we're here, you know."

"Talk?" Harry asked. "About what?" His expression must have shuttered, for Remus gulped and looked towards Sirius beseechingly.

"We can't help but notice that Snape's been giving you a hard time—harder than most." Sirius cleared his throat, before throwing a rag down into the bucket. "We know that Albus must have put stock in that prophecy to hide you from us for so long, but I swear, if I had known you were alive, I would have been there for you."

"It's nothing," Harry denied. "You couldn't have known—And you're here now…"

"Well, that's just it," Remus said quietly, "I don't think we are. We're not blind, Harry. Snape keeps pulling you out of meals at odd hours, summoning you to his quarters and…" Remus looked down, full of sadness. "I think I know why."

"You-you do?" Harry took a step back. Could they have guessed at his treachery?

"You see, Harry," Sirius began, "We, that is, Remus, and your father, and I, and even _Pettigrew,_ used to be friends—best friends—at Hogwarts. We were known as the marauders, us four, always got up to pranks and mischief, that sort of thing. And, I'm not sorry for it, but I am sorry for how it's hurt you."

"Sorry? For what?" Harry asked slowly. He had never heard stories of his parents before, as Minerva was told to keep quiet apart from the fact that they were "heroes." Albus seemed to think that it would make him want to seek out friends, people who might have known them, and that simply could not happen when Harry had to be in hiding.

"We used to pick on Snape," Sirius whispered, clenching his hands into fists. "I wish we would have killed him, bastard, if I had known what would happen to us all, but at the time, we were just schoolboys. I wanted to scare him. He was unpopular and unfriendly and already dark by that time. He figured out that Remus was a werewolf and I dared him to see for himself. We nearly killed him." Sirius began to shake, with rage or remnants of a past torture, or a combination of the two. "Your father was the worst to Snape," Sirius continued with a faint smile. "James was popular, a quidditch star from a rich, pureblood family. He stripped Snape naked in front of the whole school one time, not that there was much to look at—James turned the whole school against him."

Harry was holding his breath as he looked at the two men. "No one ever told me," Harry said, his voice cracking.

"We're sorry, Harry, so so sorry," Remus said, pulling Harry into a hug. "If I had known that childhood pranks would hurt you so much, I never would have done it."

"I wish we'd have done worse," Sirius growled miserably, scratching at the silver bonding on his wrist. "I can't stand it, the way he _pulls_ on us, makes us bend to his will. Kneeling and groveling and begging for mercy. I wish we had killed him because now, I can't even think of Snape without _hurting_."

Harry bent down to continue scrubbing at the planks. His head was pounding, swirling with a thousand thoughts. He had never known his father, but this retelling was a far cry from the heroic picture that had been painted for him. And that night in the warden's rooms, when those lips had moved against his. Was that divine revenge? Was Harry simply a fool, stumbling into a game that had already started over a decade ago?

"James did save his life one time," Remus murmured, almost as an afterthought. "The one time he got cold feet was when he kept Snape from reaching me that night. Although, I don't think it really made a dent in the grand scheme of things…I know it must sound like we were bullies, but your father was a good man. He was a valiant warrior for the Light and he grew up and matured in the end. Snape hasn't. I hear he's still haunted by the past. Can't even face the dementors himself, so he kept just the one and gave the rest to his _master_."

"It didn't make a dent," Harry confirmed bitterly, turning his face away.

"Oh, Harry…" Remus sighed, looking distraught. "I know…"

oOo

Harry panted as the orb detached from him, leaving him weak in the knees. It was the third time he had been drained and each time felt worse than the last. He fell to the floor like a ragdoll, feeling like a newborn kitten. The orb was smaller than the one before. It glowed with his magic only, beautiful golden ribbons which shimmered within the crystal. Crabbe sneered as he fell to his knees, kicking him in the back for good measure before hauling him through the corridors. Harry landed on the floor beside the Order's usual dining spot in the Hall.

"How was it?" Hermione asked, her brows creasing in the middle. "Can you, you know, still feel it?"

Harry shuffled forward weakly, allowing Ron to help him settle into his seat. "Y-yeah. It's still there."

"Good," Hermione sighed with obvious relief. "Ginny says the boats are coming in two weeks, July eighth. We need to be ready by then."

"Just two weeks?" Ron asked, frowning. "I thought it would be longer."

"So did I," Ginny said absently, her eyes still red-rimmed. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing a bruise along her neck. Draco had made another visit earlier that day, longer this time. Her voice shook with desperation. "That's why we need to smooth out the details tonight."

Arthur stood up at the head of the table, making the Order go silent. "Bill?"

"Fifteen minutes on the clock," Bill replied curtly.

"Alright. Tonight, I will go over the plan once more," Arthur said. "Hermione, Neville, and Ron will secure wands from Dolohov, Crabbe, and Goyle, who will be on duty that day when they bring us for breakfast, and then guard Molly, Bill, and Charlie as they make their way to the boats. Ginny will be in charge of securing the boats when they dock, preventing anyone else from leaving. Are we fine with that so far?" Everyone nodded. Harry had heard it all before, but there was an energy in the air tonight, like it was more official, now with the exact date of the food delivery boats. "The rest of us will be dismantling the wards. There are two Dark Mark checkpoints between our cells and the docks, plus the wards that keep prisoners from leaving all connected to the power orb. Sirius, Remus, and I will attack the orb in the main draining chamber. The warden will feel the disturbance and will be forced to stay on the island, holding the wards by himself if he doesn't want the entire prison to collapse with him in it. Harry, your job will be to detain the warden if or when he manages to stabilize the wards. We only need a couple of seconds to give us enough time to run to the boats. Keep him in the draining chamber until you see Ginny send red sparks in the air. That's the five minute mark that means it's time for you to leave and meet us at the docks. Does everyone understand?"

There was a resounding yes from the crowd, and mugs of water drugged with Relaxer were clanked in the air. Harry had never felt so involved before, so needed. Swept up in the moment, he downed his own glass of water, almost regretting it when he didn't fall into that false sense of calm that took over everyone else.


	6. Bonds

When Harry was called to the warden's rooms again, he was surprised to see his own glowing golden orb sitting on the table. He approached it warily, not seeing the warden anywhere. It called to him like a siren, wanting to drain him dry. Harry stopped a couple of feet from it, wondering what it was doing here. Was it connected to the rest of the wards? Did it have a purpose?

"Fascinating, isn't it?"

Harry whipped around, coming face-to-face with the warden. "Well, it is mine," Harry groused.

"Obviously." Harry watched as the warden gave the orb a curiously longing look before that too was carefully shuttered. "Sit," the man ordered.

Harry did, looking angrily away from the warden. "I know what you do, what it's called," he said, refusing to meet the man's eyes. "It's legilimency, isn't it?"

"Oh?" Severus asked amused, "Did one of your _friends_ tell you that?"

"As a matter of fact," Harry retorted, before slamming his mouth shut. No, he wouldn't tell the man anything. Let him claw it from his mind if he wanted it so badly.

"Look at me, Harry," Severus asked again, his voice dropping into those silky sweet tones that had Harry wanting to shut his brain off and just obey. The man cupped his chin, twisting Harry's jaw to face him. In reply, Harry squeezed his eyes shut. There!

But then breath ghosted over his lips and Harry's eyes flung wide open in shock—

Images went barreling past Harry's mind—the time Harry drained his water and wished for the Relaxers, the time Harry had learned that Fred was murdered by werewolves, that Bill was scarred during the same raid, the time that Hermione and Ron had shared a brief kiss after a draining, the time that Harry had vehemently denied to Arthur that anything was wrong, that he was ill from stress and nothing else—and then the escape plans rose to the surface unbidden. The warden seized onto these memories, eating them up, analyzing them, replaying them, feeling the triumph and the sense of _belonging_ that rose in Harry as they beamed at him. Of Ron's hand on his back, telling him that he was glad that Harry was there with him, even if it was in Azkaban—

Then, without any warning, the memory of that awkward night rose in Harry's mind. Of catching Ron, prick in hand, as he pleasured himself in the corner of the cell. A rush of emotions, of jealousy and curiosity, and longing, and embarrassment.

Severus pulled out of his mind with a smirk, leaving Harry to pant against the couch.

"You—How did you—I've been occluding!" Harry panted accusingly, turning hurt emerald eyes to the warden.

Severus released a dark laugh. "You signed a contract, boy. As my spy, whatever meagre occlumency shields you managed to raise would be useless against me. I own your mind, as I own you."

Harry ground his teeth in frustration. He should have known all those nights clearing his mind, ignoring the hunger pains, following Hermione's instructions were all for naught.

"You'll never own me," Harry growled.

"No?" Severus asked delicately. "I feed you, I take care of you, I hold your fate in my hands. Would you like a collar to prove it to yourself?"

Harry barred his teeth. "You forced me to sign that contract and you bloody well know it!"

"Yes, what a cruel master, I am," Severus said, "You ask me not to drug you and I find you already _longing_ for the Relaxers again. You ask me not to tell your friends what a little liar, what a sneak, what a _spy_ you are, and I hold my silence. I didn't even whip you till within an inch of your life when you broke the draining orb, as I would have with anyone else!"

"Thank you ever so much, _Severus_ ," Harry spat sarcastically, choking as a hand came to wrap around his throat.

"Say that again," Severus demanded, squeezing harder. "Thank me like you mean it, Potter."

Harry tried to shake his head, but ended up gasping. His hands clawed at the arm holding him up. He attempted to kick the man, but the warden had anticipated this too. Harry was pushed up against the wall, head banging hard against it until he saw stars.

"Thank me!" Severus said again, grabbing Harry's hands and forcing them over his head. "Thank me for not torturing your worthless hide and finding some _use_ for you. I should have known a _Potter_ would be a lost cause!" He pressed the full weight of his body against the boy, situated his knee between the boy's thighs. "Thank me for keeping you _alive_."

Harry wriggled angrily against the wall. All he saw was red. "I'd rather have the _cruciatus_!" Harry growled with what little breath he had.

"Pain? You want _pain_?"

The warden captured Harry's lips, biting them and drawing blood as his hands crushed Harry's wrists together. Harry whimpered, remembering the way he had been kissed before, languidly in a state of drugged bliss. Now, he was certain he was awake. The knee pressed up against him, and to Harry's horror, he could feel his cock swell, pushing up against the prison robes.

It was because he hadn't wanked in weeks, he thought, it's because he had to hear Ron's last night activities and because he was so bloody alone…But that didn't matter now. His face flamed, knowing he couldn't deny _its_ existence.

"Well, well," Severus purred, curling his slender fingers around Harry's length and pulling it, eliciting a pathetic moan from the boy. "Perhaps there's a use for you, after all."

Harry swallowed back a retort as those hands expertly massaged his length, his head leaning back against the wall. He was still hard when he felt fingers exploring further back, prodding at his entrance insistently. Harry wailed, trying to curl into himself. He had never been touched there, had not even dared to explore inside of himself. His whole body was on fire, burning with a need he hadn't known existed.

"I wonder," Severus whispered. "What would your friends in the Order say if they saw you now? The last hope for the resistance—nothing but a _slut_."

"N-no," Harry denied. It couldn't be true. The warden must have drugged him somehow. He would never just betray his friends like that. No matter how good it felt…

A finger slipped past the tight ring of muscle, pressing against his inner walls.

"And to think," Severus continued, smirking as Harry fell apart into an incoherent mess in front of him. "That they expect you to detain _me_."

The boy was beautiful, confused, alive, electrified…James Potter was surely rolling in his grave. The thought gave the warden a sickening pleasure. Oh yes, revenge was indeed a dish best served cold. If he had to suffer in this godforsaken prison, he might as well make it enjoyable for himself. The boy with his too clear eyes and his feminine features, that innocence that came from isolation with the weight of a prophecy and the expectation of the great Albus Dumbledore…Delightful.

Severus enjoyed watching the boy squirm within his moral predicament, struggling to reconcile his need to be accepted by the Order with his own guilt for betraying them. He would never fully be able to accept their love and support because Severus had gotten there first, ruining him. Only Severus knew exactly what Harry was – Human. He flew towards the flame and away from the hot poker. He chose life over death, food over starvation, comfort over pain. And Severus intended to comfort him most thoroughly.

"Hurts," Harry groaned as Severus added another finger to join the first. "Please, I just— _Oh_!"

Severus smiled as he stroked over that spot within the boy, knowing he was the first to introduce him to such pleasures. He prodded it again and again and again, watching as the blush became darker over the boy's face. He kissed away the boy's tears that had trickled from his eyes, never letting up the pressure on his prostrate. The boy's cock was leaking against the inside of his robes, making a stain there.

Severus slipped his fingers out, disrobed, and then pulled the prison robes off of Harry, before tossing him across the back of the couch. He lined himself up with the boy's hole and pushed inside, knowing that he was wider than the boy was possibly ready for. The pain was unbearable, Harry thought, feeling something wet trickle against the back of his legs. He felt like he had been torn open from the inside and he whined.

"Do you think I care?" Severus asked, pulling out until only the tip was inside and thrusting forward deeply until he was buried to the hilt. "Do you think you deserve anything better for daring to plot against _me_?"

Harry bit his tongue to keep from crying out loud. He wouldn't give the bastard the pleasure. The man moved behind him, agonizingly slow, until he hit that special spot within him again. Harry arched up into the touch involuntarily.

"Just move _faster_ dammit," Harry growled, wanting him to hit that spot again.

Severus laughed, but snapped his hips faster nevertheless. "Anything else?" he asked mockingly. "Would you like me to take care of this, perhaps?" His hands had found Harry's cock again, hard and leaking against the couch. Harry whined, which Severus took as a yes, before proceeding to bring Harry off, timing it with his own climax.

Harry groaned, the sound torn out of him, as he came. He had never felt like this before, _never_. Not even when he had taken that quidditch magazine to the bathroom while Minerva was out running errands. Severus pulled out and then pulled the boy close to him, pressing him against his chest. Harry could hear the man's heart racing against his naked back. Loud and strong and fast.

"Wow," Harry whispered, in a state of awe. "That was…thanks."

"So the boy can be taught," Severus sneered, but his harsh words were belied by the kiss he placed on the crown of Harry's head. It wasn't sweet. It wasn't gentle. It was possessive. _This boy is mine._

Harry's heart fluttered as he was held that night. He had never slept out of the cell and certainly not in the warden's bed. Severus held him tightly beneath the covers like a dragon curled around its gold. Nothing about this was how Harry had imagined it. No flowers, high towers, or quests…And yet, there was a safety here, twisted, dark, _private_. He liked the feel of Severus' skin against his back, liked the feeling of being protected, liked the idea of being _loved_.

And Severus knew it. Knew that Dumbledore had groomed the young man to accept scraps of affection to do his bidding by raising him away and alone…The hero of the Light was vulnerable, ripe for the picking, and all _his_.

"You're not going to bind me?" Harry asked softly. "With my orb right in the living room? I could slit your throat, take my magic and run…"

His threat was without heat, just an observation.

Severus made an observation of his too. "You could, but you won't."

"And why is that?" Harry asked.

"Because I own your heart."

Harry could just feel the man's smirk against his neck, the smugness, the triumph.

Harry tried to deny it, tried to make some burning retort about how he wasn't so hard up for love he would die for the first prick that fucked him—but he couldn't.

With a huff, he turned over so that his back was facing the warden. Even surrounded by the Order, he felt so alone. He was drowning slowly and no one could see it. But here, he could be as wretched as ever, and Severus let him, and gave him food and showers and love besides. Tears of frustration leaked from his eyes as he thought of his friends, lying in their cold cells while he was cozy and warm.

He didn't deserve anything…

**oOo**

It took Harry a minute to realize where he was when he awoke. He was on a soft bed in a warm room…and he wasn't alone. The warden, he realized, was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at his arm. Harry slipped his glasses on and looked on curiously. The Dark Mark was inflamed, irritating the skin around it.

"That's You-Know-Who's mark, isn't it?" Harry asked, the term he had picked up from Ron weird in his mouth. "Is it…is it painful?"

Severus grit his teeth and looked over at the boy in his bed. Harry looked so innocent, sitting there, swathed in his sheets.

"He is angry," Severus replied, as another wave of pain rolled through him. "His emotions sometimes…come through the marks."

"Oh." That sounded highly unpleasant to Harry and he wrinkled his nose in disgust at it. "Can he feel yours?"

"No."

"Can you feel Ron's?"

Severus quirked his eyebrow at him. "And why would I feel Ron Weasley's emotions?"

Harry looked pointedly at Severus' wrist. "You bound them to you, didn't you? Ron showed me when I first got here. It gives you power over them, just like You-Know-Who has over you, right?"

"Not quite," Severus answered after a minute. He stood up, pulling on black outer robes and buttoning each button manually without his wand. "The Dark Lord has bound his Death Eaters as his servants and does not have the dark mark himself. The mark I have given the prisoners here is one I also bear. What does that tell you?"

Harry frowned, slipping out of bed and coming to stand beside the warden. "It means you're bound to them as well?"

"It means we are bound to Azkaban. It is location-based, Harry. Here, I hold dominion over them, but given enough distance…"

Harry's eyes widened. "You'd be willing to take that chance?"

Severus fixed him with a look that spoke volumes about what he thought of Harry's intelligence. "The chances of a grand escape are, pardon me, _exponentially_ slim. If Azkaban goes under, I likely will as well. If not from drowning, then from the Dark Lord's wrath."

"That's why you won't bind me," Harry said with stunning clarity. Severus hesitated a second too long in lacing up his boots.

"Think what you will," the warden said, handing Harry a clean prison robe with a haughty look. "And by all means, continue to plot with the people you plan to betray on ways to subdue me. I'm sure the results will be most interesting."


	7. The Boat

In the washroom, Harry soaped up beside Ron like nothing was amiss. He took the bar of soup and lathered his body quickly, trying not to look too much at Ron's body and just looking up at the water as it rained down over them. Ron kept shooting him furtive glances though, and even opened his mouth a couple times to ask a question that never came. It wasn't until after he caught his appearance in the mirror that Ron's strange behavior began to make sense.

"The warden kept you a long time," was all Ron said, averting his eyes from the vibrant handprint that shone on his friend's neck and the other marks besides—the faded bruises down his hips and along his thighs. Harry didn't have anything to say to that, only nodded and kept his head down to hide his growing blush.

It wasn't only Ron who noticed either. Hermione shot Harry a sad look over lunch, offering him some of her own mush from her plate to cheer him up.

"It'll make you feel better."

"It's alright," Harry said, feeling worse by the second.

He didn't deserve these people's kindness. He deserved to be laughed at, hurt, and humiliated. He couldn't stand their genuine concern and love—or what they thought was love. As soon as they learned that he was a spy, however unwilling, they wouldn't love him at all, but still, Harry couldn't bring himself to tell them what had happened. He ate a little bit of Hermione's extra mush with the spoon, knowing very well that she needed it more than he did.

Arthur even came up to him, pulling him aside privately towards the very end of the lunch hour. "We're here for you, Harry," he said. "I always knew that Severus and James never got on, but this is just wrong, punishing the son for the sins of the father." Arthur shook his head disdainfully. He made no effort to look away from the handprint on Harry's neck and Harry felt his face burn, hearing the echoes of Severus' voice.

_Slut, slut, slut._

He looked away. "I don't want to talk about it," Harry whispered.

"That's alright, Harry. To each their own. It's isolating, the pain. You can imagine that you're all alone when you're singled out like that and hurt. But you're never alone, not really," Arthur reassured him quietly.

Harry was confused in his own heart and mind. He nodded along as Neville talked about the plan once again. He thought about the Dark Mark, angry and painful on the warden's arm, thought about the silver marks that adorned his friends, wondered about the orb in the man's chambers and what it might mean.

He remembered the way the man moved inside of him, the stretch of it, the blistering kisses…

oOo

"Have you ever been in love?" Ginny asked him one day in the Hall during free period, watching Hermione and Ron snog in the corner.

"I—" Harry rubbed the back of his head and blushed. "I'm not sure."

"Yeah, me neither," Ginny said. Draco had been visiting more often recently, dragging Ginny away to one of the interrogation rooms before anyone could really protest. Harry thought it was probably doing a number on her, but each time she emerged, she seemed less tearful. "Can I tell you a secret, Harry?"

She leaned in close, and Harry had a brief moment of panic. Whatever she said could be pulled out of his mind by Severus. He shouldn't be encouraging anyone to share any secret with him—but her eyes were so earnest. It was clear that she needed to talk to someone and for some reason, she had chosen him. He nodded. "Alright, Ginny."

"Please don't judge me," she began, "But Draco didn't let slip when the boats were going to arrive…He _told_ me."

"I don't understand." Harry shook his head. "Why would he do that?"

"Well, I…" she swallowed. "He says he loves me. I know, I know, he's horrible, but I—I'm _using_ him."

Harry started, almost dropping his cup of water. "You're using _him_?"

"Please don't tell my parents, or my brothers for that matter," Ginny whispered. "It's just that we're getting desperate. The full moon is coming soon and Remus can't survive another one in Azkaban, and-and my father is sick. He's getting weaker and weaker. Soon he won't even be able to make the journey even if we managed to get him on a boat. I _had_ to, Harry."

"It's alright, just, start from the beginning?"

"Well, remember when Draco came the first time you were here?" She waited for Harry to nod. "He—he proposed that we make a deal. He said he could free my parents, get them under house arrest, if I agreed to marry him. He knows I have no choice in the matter, but he also knew that marriage was forever and I would make his life miserable. I refused. We fought. He- he hurt me. The next time he came, I said that I would marry him and try to love him if he could just _help_ with the escape plan. I didn't even say it had to work, just that he could do this one thing for us."

"To send the boats," Harry finished.

"Yes…" Ginny nodded. "To send them and he said he could do better, that he could send them _early_. If the plan fails, I'm back to where I started. But if it works, if it works and we escape, I promised to marry him anyway. Either way, he wins, but at least this way, _we_ have a shot."

"Won't You-Know-Who punish him though?" Harry asked.

"There's not enough to implicate him," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "He's not involved in anything but bringing the boats. Tons of people will likely be punished, but he's the Malfoy heir and there's a movement to repopulate the world with purebloods. If anyone's safe, it would be him."

"But you're still not sure if you love him?" Harry asked. It was a grand gesture to be sure, and entirely out of character from the spoiled brat Harry had first witnessed. He remembered the way Draco had sauntered into the prison, surveying the Order like filth beneath his boot. He hadn't known about the boats though and he wondered how much that mattered.

"Yeah," Ginny sighed. "I think I could learn to love him, in time…but I can't love someone who doesn't love me back, you know? He says he loves me but…it's an obsession. It isn't _love_."

Harry nodded, looking off into the distance. "Maybe he just doesn't know how to love. His father seemed like a real piece of work. I can't imagine his mother would be much better."

Ginny pursed her lips. "Yeah, you know, you might be right." She leaned back on her hands with a laugh that grew wilder and wilder. Then she hugged herself around the ribs as the laughter was dragged from her lungs. "Too bad real life isn't like a fairy tale. Draco's never going to change—I know it. The best I can hope for is that this place collapses on him when he brings the boats. _Problem solved_."

Harry shivered. Prison had changed Ginny, not that he had really known her before, but in the weeks he had been here, she was slowly becoming unraveled. He wondered what he had become.

Harry offered her another cup of water laced with Relaxer. "Here," he said gently, watching her drink it down and feeling oddly relieved when she became calmer once more. "It'll be alright, Ginny. You'll see."

oOo

The escape was not supposed to be for another week, and yet there were sirens blaring in the fortress at midnight. Ron was shaking him awake violently. "Get up, Harry, we've got to move!"

"Huh?" Harry jumped awake, noticing that the bars were no longer separating their cells. "But the boats," Harry protested, as Ron dragged him towards where the Order was gathered in the corridor.

"Change of plans," Neville shouted over the din. "The warden moved the draining orb. He knew we were after it. It's now or never. A new boat of prisoners from the raids in Ireland just landed. We have to go _now_."

"But the wards!" Molly protested, clutching her chest.

"Not a problem for prisoner boats," Neville grinned. "They can enter and leave as needed and with so many prisoners passing through the checkpoints, they had to disable them for the next hour."

"How do you even know about this?" Ginny asked, catching her breath.

"Overheard the guards," Bill said smugly. "Plus Charlie and Bill were on dock cleaning duty last night when they noticed they had the incoming boat signals on. Let's _go_."

Dolohov was knocked out on the floor beside them, his Dark Mark pressing against a rune in the stone that must have lifted all of their bars. The siren was localized to their wing, Harry realized, signaling that the bars were lifted for too long. They probably only had a couple of minutes before reinforcements made their way to the source of the noise. Arthur held Dolohov's wand securely in his fist, did a quick head count, and then proudly led them to safety.

Harry was torn as he ran beside the Order. His head was still foggy from sleep, but his nerves were frayed, jolted by the adrenaline. Were they really going to escape? Where were the reinforcements? Where was the warden?

It was after they turned the third corner that Harry began to panic. The docks were in sight, the large prisoner boat emptied of prisoners and bobbing in the frigid water. A sinking feeling began to settle in his heart and in his chest as he watched the Order race towards the boat.

It was altogether too easy…

Harry stopped running, planting his feet firmly on the dock. "We have to go back," Harry said, panting. "It isn't safe."

"You're talking nonsense!" Sirius shouted, running back to grip Harry by the shoulders and shake him roughly.

"No, it's a trap!" Harry yelled, causing everyone to freeze in their tracks. "It's too easy, don't you see?"

" _Easy_?" Neville bristled with a hysterical edge, rounding on him and spitting in his face. "This has been very, very far from easy, Potter. Just because you're the prophecy child doesn't mean we can't figure out how to escape without you! In fact, you see the warden so often, how do we know it wasn't _you_ who told him about the draining orb?"

"Neville!" Ginny admonished, pulling Neville away. "Harry's not a traitor!"

"Yeah?" Neville challenged. The entire Order was gathered around them now, unsure of what to do. "Then how come he isn't marked like the rest of us? I'm sick of this place. I'm getting out of here!" Neville marched onto the boat, glaring at the rest of the Order. "Well?" He crossed him arms expectantly.

Hermione was looking at Harry uneasily, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Harry, why do you feel like it's a trap?"

"It's…it's too obvious." Harry couldn't explain it, but he was certain that the boat wouldn't just be _sitting there_. Empty.

"We need to leave right now," Sirius insisted with a shake of his head, grabbing Remus' hand and then Harry's. "We've wasted enough time. Don't be ridiculous." He yanked Harry forward, but Harry pulled back, nearly dislocating his shoulder.

Arthur and Molly looked uncertain. "I don't know," Arthur whispered, looking at the wand in his hand. "Maybe Harry's right. Dolohov was surprisingly easy to disarm even through the bars. _Lumos_."

The wand didn't even spark. There was no warmth from the stick. Arthur looked up stricken, just as the boat _exploded_.

The blast shot bits of the metal ship miles into the air, Neville's scream were swallowed by the sound. A ball of flame expanded over the water, blazing like a second sun, the shrapnel falling back and plunking into the icy depths tinged red.

Sirius's jaw hung open. " _No_ ," he moaned.

Death Eaters descended onto the dock from the shadows, including a perfectly healthy Dolohov with a fully functioning wand.

A laugh wrenched through the air.

"You were right, Severus," Rosier bellowed. "The Order _was_ planning a little vacation!"

Arthur dropped the useless stick from between his still fingers. It rolled to the ground and tumbled off the dock and into the water…

_Neville…poor Neville…_

They were surrounded. Cuffs materialized on everyone's wrists and a pressure from the bond forced the Order to their knees as Severus held his finger on the silver mark—all but Harry who stood there shaking.

"You should have listened to the boy," the warden mocked, his footsteps making the planks creak. "Maybe then, dear Longbottom would still be around!"

"You killed him!" Sirius screamed, forcing his face from the ground. "You didn't have to kill him!"

"Actually, Black, you'll find that I did—Orders as you know, from the very top." Severus' eyes flashed. "Not that I would have thought you to have a problem with murdering innocent children."

"You were hardly _innocent_!" Black snarled, the pain of losing Neville right in front of him blinded him with rage. He could no longer feel fear, not in the face of Snape, not in the face of death. He was numb. Absolutely mad. "I should have _killed_ you!"

" _Crucio!_ " The curse left the warden's lips as no more than a whisper, but the light that shot from his wand was vibrating with energy and violent.

Sirius screamed into the night, writhing on the ground.

"If Potter had listened to you, he would have _died_ as well. How does that feel, Black, to know you would have been the cause of death of James Potter's only child?"

"You're a bastard, Snape," Remus snarled.

"Ah yes, the dog's pet werewolf. How could I forget? You two so hate to be punished alone. _Crucio!_ "

So close to the full moon, Remus was hypersensitive and sore. He convulsed on the ground beside his partner, aware that he looked half-dead already.

Harry could see the gleam of pleasure in the warden's eyes. The malice there could cut through steel. How could he have let this man _inside_ him? Derived pleasure from him even?

Ron was a huddled mess, trying his hardest to disappear if he just squished himself small enough. Hermione was holding her ears to block out the screams and Ginny was crying softly. It wasn't right. Nothing was right. Arthur and Molly, Bill and Charlie, all of them so crestfallen, so sure they would be free, only to have that freedom wrenched from them as a cruel joke…

Harry felt the rage building inside of him. He could taste it, like blood on his tongue— "STOP!" he screamed as Remus' bones snapped. "STOP IT! Can't you see he can't take anymore?"

Remus was coughing up blood onto the dock, splattering it with dark red fluid.

"And do you imagine I take orders from you, Potter?" the warden asked cruelly. It was as if they had never slept together, as if he hadn't kissed him. He was looking into the eyes of a stranger, crazed.

"I was right about you," Harry snarled, bunching his fists at his side. "You're nothing but a monster! Yeah, they might have been idiots when they were younger, but they _grew up!_ They say you can't even face dementors, you COWARD!"

One could have heard a pin drop, such was the silence that descended over the dock. The waves crashed violently against the stone, heaving and dense…

"You dare call me coward, Potter?" the warden asked in a deceptively soft voice. He lifted his wand directly into Harry's face. "Let's see how well you fare then." He made a signal to the other guards and they came around and forced him to his knees. His words were precise, cutting, damning. "The dementor chamber. Forty-eight hours."

"Noooooo!" Molly wailed. "You can't! He's just a boy!"

Protests were uttered, overlapping each other. Harry couldn't tell who was screaming his name, who was shouting _No_. Even Ron was protesting under his breath, whispering to himself in a form of self-comfort.

Harry continued to glare at the warden until he could no longer see him. The entire night was like one harsh slap in the face. Neville _dead_. And what was to become of his friends? They had walked into a trap, one which his spying had helped to set…

Rosier and MacNair brought him deep into the prison, down several flights of stairs until they came to a small door. It was freezing down here, as if all the warmth had been sucked out…

"Enjoy your stay," MacNair cackled, bolting the door shut behind him.

Harry fell to the ground, face first. He could see his breath, coming in puffs of white clouds. The chamber was dark and he realized that he was in a small cage of sorts.

Then something moved out of the corner of his eye. A black tattered robe, a floating form with skeletal hands…

The dementor hovered outside his cage, prowling around it like a starved beast. Harry curled into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. His head began to pound and he tried to clear his mind, but it was no use.

He was one and his mother was screaming, "Not Harry! Not Harry!" Before a bolt of green light shot through her heart.

He was three and running around the small garden as a fat boy named Dudley and a dog were chasing him.

He was five and Minerva McGonagall had taken away his toy broom after he had crashed it into a tree.

He was ten and yearning to play with the other children, only to be told by Dumbledore that he didn't need to have friends, that heroes stood _alone_.

He was eighteen and Minerva held him in the cave, right before the spells came crashing down. Minerva tortured, screaming, then silence…a terrible, terrible silence…

Memories rose and fell, pulled form his mind and slammed back down. The dementor was not close enough to steal his soul, but Harry felt as if he would never be whole again, never alive again…

After what seemed like ten long years, another Death Eater hauled him out of the dementor chamber. The sunlight burned his eyes and he shut them tightly. He was thrown into his cell, but he was unable to hear Ron as he shouted. His eyes were glossy and he thought he saw his mother petting his hair.

For days, Harry Potter was but a shell.

He ate when Ron spooned mush into his mouth. He slept, whimpering softly, until exhaustion overtook him. The boats were coming in three days, and Harry Potter was somewhere else…


	8. Turning Point

Severus couldn't believe the gall of the boy, staring defiantly with flashing emerald eyes as Severus gave the dog and wolf what was coming to them. Neville had to be killed. The Dark Lord had been enraged that Dumbledore had slipped through his fingers again and as punishment, the Dark Lord wanted him to know that Neville was killed for his freedom.

Sirius, however, was his own decision. Sirius had wanted to take Harry, wanted to pull his beautiful boy away from _him_. Of course, Black probably never imagined the boat to be rigged—having never been particularly intelligent, even at school.

He wondered how his boy was faring now, if he had learned his lesson. Harry surely couldn't have any _terrible_ memories. He had escaped most of the war, raised in some godforsaken bunker of Dumbledore's. Severus imagined that it would teach the boy a healthy dose of self-preservation and respect. He licked his lips as he thought of how the boy would thank him, if he would cling to him like a shaking leaf and beg Severus to never let the bad dementor near him again.

The warden prowled through the halls, head held high. He nodded to Crabbe who was on duty, and turned towards the Order's Wing. He stopped in his tracks when he saw everyone pressed up against their bars, staring at Harry Potter. The boy was pressed against the barrier separating the two cells so that Ginny, Hermione, and Ron could all comfort him together. The boy's eyes weren't flashing or accusing. They didn't recognize Severus at all. They were glassy and blank like a doll's.

A horror seized Severus and he stormed forward. "Get away from him!" he growled, brandishing his wand. Ron, terrified, shuffled away from the boy. "What is the meaning of this?"

"He's been like this ever since the dementors," Hermione answered with a squeak, bowing her head.

Severus turned to Crabbe. "And why was I not informed of his condition?" he demanded.

Crabbe shrugged. "Thought that's what you wanted, Snape."

"You will call the mediwitch at once," Severus ordered. "If he dies, I'll have your head on a platter!" Crabbe ran like the devil was on his heels, which was probably the most exercise he had gotten in a year.

The boy was still staring straight ahead, murmuring something under his breath. Severus cast a complicated spell in Latin, and a small red light flashed above the boy's head. Molly saw it and covered her mouth with a muffled sob. From further down the row, Sirius and Remus were straining to see what was happening. The sight of the warden made them tremble, but they were worried for Harry more.

The sound of running footsteps preceded the arrival of a plump witch in a white gown. She bit her lip as she surveyed the hall, as if trying to prevent her tears from falling as she saw the familiar faces. Poppy Pomfrey was different from the woman Molly remembered. This Poppy was serious, intent. Her face was scarred, three straight lines down her face, across her left eye and lips. On her arm was branded the Dark Mark, and it was clear that the new regime was working her to the bone. Crabbe was panting behind her, tired from the run. Severus dismissed him with an arched brow, before staring at the mediwitch imperiously.

"It isn't often I'm called to a prison to save a life," Poppy said tightly, appraising the warden with a hard look in her eyes. "Are you sure you have need of my skills? I won't have my work wasted when you decide to do away with him tomorrow."

"I am absolutely sure," Severus said tightly, pointing towards the boy in the cell. "Now, if you please."

Poppy glanced over and nearly fainted at the sight. She had heard of the boy's capture, but she never imagined that the patient she was summoned here to treat would be this particular prisoner. "And just how has _Mr. Potter_ come to be in this comatose state? Poison? Prolonged cruciatus?"

Her voice vibrated with rage as she slipped through the bars and crouched beside him. Severus wanted to slap her hands away, shout at her to not touch what was his, but he bit it back. He needed her.

"Dementors," Ron volunteered under his breath, rocking himself in the corner.

Poppy paled further, pressing two fingers to his wrist and checking his pulse. "How long?" she asked brusquely.

Severus pressed his lips together and refused to answer.

Poppy huffed and shot him a glare. "I assumed you called me here to _save_ him. If I am mistaken—"

"Forty-eight hours," Severus ground out, the statement seeming a lot less powerful now, as if he were admitting an embarrassing secret, as if each hour of the boy's sentence proved all the more how he was _attached_.

"We need to get him somewhere warm…dementor exposure…coupled with magical exhaustion, I assume he's been magically drained, yes…and Relaxers too…"

"No Relaxers," Severus bit out, refusing to meet her eyes.

Poppy looked up sharply. "I had heard tales, of course, but even I never thought you could be so cruel." She rose to her feet and flicked her wand at the boy, levitating him. "Your quarters?" she asked expectantly, anger rolling off of her.

Severus nodded and swept out of the hallway, leading the way. An ache settled in his chest and he clamped down on it harshly. Now was not the time for sentimentality, for regret, for, Merlin forbid, _remorse_. He could see Poppy close her eyes briefly, grief straining her features as she looked at the boy levitating besides her. He could practically hear her thoughts, the accusations being levelled against him.

She might not even be wrong.

Poppy glanced briefly at the golden orb when she entered the warden's chambers, pursing her lips in disapproval. They walked to his bedroom and she laid Harry Potter out on his bed, his glassy green eyes staring up at the ceiling. Harry looked broken, an angel with his wings snapped.

"Will he live?" Severus asked haltingly, the words pulled from him unwillingly, but he had to know.

"He's in a state of shock," Poppy said. "It's a rare reaction to dementor exposure, but not unheard of. I have the revivers that should snap him out of his mental trap, but his magic will be thrashing, trying to protect its host. I will need you to hold him as I pour the potions down his throat."

"Hold—"

"Yes, _Severus_ , I assume you haven't gone deaf. Hold him so he doesn't injure himself or us. If I use magic to restrain him, his magic will just lash out and the last thing we need is another incident!"

Severus slipped out of his shoes and outer robes and then slid onto the bed, back against the headboard. His arms wrapped firmly around Harry's middle, pulling the boy taut against him. He had been itching to cradle his boy, even in the cell, but the watchful eyes of the Order so full of rage, just waiting to learn of his weakness had stopped him.

He was a coward of the worst sort. But here, now, he had every excuse to wrap his hands around the boy, to touch his skin…

Poppy waved her wand with a determined look on her face. Four potions came floating out of one of the pockets inside her robes. She unshrunk them and uncorked the first. "Now!" she declared, pouring the potion down the boy's throat.

For a moment, nothing happened, but then the boy gagged and buckled in Severus' arms. His head jolted to the side, clipping Severus on the chin, and then he screamed, terrified. Poppy quickly reached for the next vial as Harry began to panic.

The second potion was pink and fizzy. Harry swallowed it, the confusion slowly fading from his eyes. Severus could feel the relief flowing through him, letting out a harsh breath, but there were two more to go. They were poured down in quick succession, and Severus stroked a hand down the boy's throat to get him to swallow. After the last one, Harry began to thrash some more, kicking his legs as if running. A golden burst of magic was rapidly expanding outward and Poppy raised her wand, forcing it back. Perspiration began to bead on her forehead and Severus, catching the hint, held Harry tighter.

"I—I _can't_ ," Harry was mumbling, shaking his head. "They're going to make me get on the boat. I can't, I can't!"

"Shhh," Severus murmured, quite aware that Poppy could hear every word, no matter how preoccupied she was. But it was just Poppy. The woman who had healed his scrapes and bruises after his many run-ins with the marauders. No doubt she viewed Harry's critical condition as petty revenge for Potter Sr.

It had been…at the start.

"No one is making you do anything."

"But," Harry gulped in a deep breath. "Sirius wants me to go with him…and you don't like Sirius…you called him a _dog_."

"Because he is," Severus said, his voice lacking its normal bite.

"I don't like dogs," Harry confessed softly. "Ripper tried to eat me once."

"Did he?"

Harry frowned in thought before slowly, slowly dozing off, becoming limp in Severus' arms. The golden aura faded away and Poppy lowered her wand, leaning back against the wall, panting. Her arms shook as she put her wand away, staring at the boy in wonder. She had never felt anything like it. His magic had been _alive_ , as deep as the ocean. There was little doubt in her mind that it was the same gold that filled the orb on the table outside and her anger returned, diluted by her exhaustion.

The boy was clearly being _targeted._ Still, she couldn't help but feel as if she were missing something as she watched the boy snuggle forward, rubbing his face into the warden's robes.

"You may rest on the couch," Severus offered finally, stiffly. Poppy started, having not realized she was being watched.

She sent the warden a withering glare before returning to the living room in a daze. The golden orb sparkled before her eyes as she allowed herself to sleep.

When Poppy came to, she heard voices coming from the bedroom. Ah, Harry must be up, she thought. Better run another diagnostic before leaving…

Before entering the room, however, she frowned at the golden orb, thoughts racing through her mind. Why did Severus have it in his quarters? How much magic did that boy really have?

She stopped right outside the bedroom, hidden from view, but able to see the bed from the bathroom mirror. Severus was lying in bed beside Harry, his hand carding through the boy's hair in a strangely intimate gesture. The boy was under the covers now, black wild hair poking out from the top. Poppy frowned, blinking as if to clear her eyes.

"I shouldn't have said that," Harry whispered. "I didn't know memories could be that bad."

"Don't," Severus said. He was resting on top of the covers, staring down at his folded hands. "You're recovering. Don't speak of it."

"Was I really that far gone?" Harry wondered. "I hardly remember anything."

Severus reached over and cupped Harry's chin, turning his head to face him. "I could have lost you…" Poppy couldn't understand what she was seeing. If this was some form of twisted revenge, she could believe it, but it didn't _feel_ like that.

Harry looked up at the warden, frowning slightly. "I didn't know you cared."

Poppy pressed a hand to her mouth in shock as Harry leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the man's lips. Suddenly, the other details in her diagnostic were beginning to make sense. He wasn't malnourished like the other prisoners, nor was he being drugged regularly with Relaxers. What had seemed like an unspeakable cruelty before, now was painted in a rather different light.

Her noise of surprise was not soft enough, however, as Severus broke off abruptly and sighed. Poppy strode into the room as if she hadn't just been spying. She waved her wand, causing a little green light to flash above Harry's head.

"Mr. Potter seems to have made a _miraculous_ recovery." Her eyes were full of knowledge and Severus resented her for it. "But for how long, I do not know. Prison is no place for a soul. _Any_ soul." She bowed low before them. "I am needed elsewhere. Do take care, Mr. Potter…Severus."


End file.
